Memento Mori
by Lexie-H
Summary: Separate vignettes. Join the Marauders, Lily, Tonks and a host of our dearly departed favourites as they stumble through a little thing called Death, which is not all it appears to be. DH Spoilers in later chapters. RR please!
1. The Gate Keeper

**Disclaimer:****Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

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_If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks,_

_Then I'll follow you into the dark_

– I Will Follow You Into the Dark, Death Cab for Cutie

**The Gate Keeper**

_1 November, 1981_

James woke up suddenly. He was lying, spread eagled, on his back. The ground was cold and hard beneath him, and possibly a little bit dewy. All he could see was green: a blinding green flash of light that burnt into his corneas, as if he had been staring at the sun for too long. He attempted to sit up, feeling dizzy. Remembering the words of his wife, medi-witch extraordinaire, he sat with his head between his knees, breathing slowly.

James blinked for a few minutes and slowly, his sight returned. He felt nauseous in the pit of his stomach. He looked about, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose in an attempt to see further, but all he could see was fog and the damp, wet grass beneath him.

Someone moaned, and he stood, moving blindly toward the noise on unsteady feet, hands stretched out in front of him.

"James?" a familiar voice cried through the dense white clouds, shrill with fear. "James!"

He moved swiftly towards the voice, and moments he later collided with a petite figure. Without hesitation, he scooped her up and wrapped her in his embrace, full of relief and love.

"Lily," he breathed. "Lily, you're here…"

His heart swelled with a great heavy sadness. He felt guilty to be glad that she was here with him during this: and terrible. The terrible knowledge hit him like a bludger to the heart… _he had not saved her_…

"Peter," she croaked, sounding heart broken. "_How could he_, James? Our friend-" she sobbed. "Our friend…"

A lump formed in his throat, and anger welled at the thought of that – _that man, that traitor_. James was numb with disbelief – as if in a dream, he was lost, and his only instinct was to keep as tight a hold of her as possible. Kissing her hair, he suddenly realised someone was missing.

"Lily," he murmured, setting her down and gripping her shoulders urgently, bending forward so that they were eye to eye. "Lily, where's Harry?"

Lily sniffed, and shook her head hopelessly. "I don't know," she wailed, peering anxiously into the enveloping white mist. James felt his heart break all over again. Harry – _his Harry, his son_… how could he grow up now?

"I can't hear him! James – do you think we're really- _gone_?"

Hopefully, their son had survived, although James knew this hope was irrational beyond all others. Was it too much to ask, that at least, they could all be together through this?

But Harry did not seem to have followed them.

_Small mercies_, James' mind registered blankly. _At least our son can live_.

For now.

"Shhh," he silenced her soft crying with a gentle finger to her mouth. "Can you hear that?"

Surely enough the sound of footsteps echoed through the fog.

"Hello there!" a voice called, and a lantern appeared from out of the closest thick white cloud, followed immediately by a hand and some feet. A man emerged, in what seemed to be fishing gear, smiling encouragingly – and looking, in James' opinion, disgustingly cheerful considering the circumstances.

"Oh thank goodness!" he sighed in relief. "We heard you arrive, you see, but you appear to have missed the terminal – come along, then!"

Lily and James exchanged apprehensive looks. "Who are you?" Lily asked, her voice wary.

The man with the lantern gave them an encouraging look. "Me? Why, I am the Gate Keeper, Miss-"

"Mrs," James corrected firmly.

The Gate Keeper's smile didn't falter. "I do apologise! I'll explain everything on the way," he told them reassuringly. "I don't know about you, but I wouldn't wish to remain out in this dreaded mist longer than I needed to! Horrible weather we're having…"

He disappeared again. James cocked an eyebrow at Lily, questioningly, and took her hand firmly.

"Well, I say we follow him," he murmured.

Lily bit her lip, her eyes filled with uncertainty and a deep aching sadness that made James want to cry. "But what about-?"

But he couldn't cry. Not yet. Not until he knew they would both be safe. Until then, he'd never let her go. James kissed her forehead reassuringly. "Lily, Harry will be fine. I know it – Sirius will take care of him."

Lily scoffed. "Well_ that's_ comforting," she muttered sarcastically.

James struggled not to smile. _That's my girl_, he thought affectionately.

Somewhere in the distance, they could still hear the Gate Keeper talking to himself.

Lily sighed. "I suppose you're right," she murmured fondly, tweaking his nose. "Let's go, before we lose him."

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**A/N****: Welcome to Memento Mori! I'd just like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who reads and reviews this story. The response has been absolutely overwhelming - I've even picked up the _2007 Reviewer's Choice Award for Best Alternative Concept,_ the April 2008 _Gold TML Eagle Award_ for a Lily/James story, and a 2008 _Hourglass Award_ nomination for Best Drama (we'll see how that goes) - and it's all thanks to you guys!!**

** I hope you enjoy the story, and please remember- reviews (appreciations, constructive criticism and/or flames) are always welcome! **


	2. Death for the Inaccessible

**Disclaimer****: Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

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_I'm staring out into the night, trying to hide the pain._

_I'm going to the place where love and feeling good don't ever cost a thing._

_And the pain you feel's a different kind of pain._

_Well I'm going home, back to the place where I belong, _

_And where your love has always been enough for me,_

_I'm not running from, no, I think you got me all wrong._

_I don't regret this life I chose for me._

_But these places and these faces are getting old,_

_So I'm going home._

_- Home. _Chris Dauntry

**Death for the Inaccessible**

_8th February 2003_

Really, when you thought about it, life was simply an arrival, just as death was simply a departure. Harry Potter gazed into the fluttering fabric that covered the old stone archway thoughtfully. Although not an Unspeakable, being an Auror certainly had its perks. Or, rather, being _Harry Potter_ had its perks. Which, more or less, meant that the Unspeakables let him into this chamber without question or argument: it had surrendered its secrets to him long ago, and there was nothing more for them to protect from him.

The cavernous amphitheatre that Harry had first stumbled across at the age of fifteen seemed to have shrunken over the years. The great rows of stone benches which ran around the walls seemed a little less cold and oppressive: and the great archway, whilst no less impressive, did not seem half so fearsome, anymore. The air did not seem so cold and empty, the shadows less menacing, the ambiance more calming.

Harry often came here, just to think. He would sit upon the stone benches and stare at the spot where Sirius had died, simply... _drifted away_... and he would just… _be_. Just to be was a gift, when you were Harry Potter.

Over the years Harry had become quite well acquainted with the old archway: so much so that he no longer heard the distant, incoherent whispers and screams. Instead, he heard snatches of laughter, and occasionally, conversation. Some days, he could even pick the voices: Sirius would remark something completely inappropriate, a man would laugh, and a female voice would chastise him. Sometimes, the man had Lupin's laugh, and the woman Tonks' wry amusement. More often than not, though, Harry suspected the voices were those of his parents: his father deeply amused by his old friend, and his mother fondly disapproving.

Once, several years ago, Ginny had accompanied him. He had watched as the woman he loved approached the great arch, hands stretched out timidly, eyes widening with fright as she drew closer. This place held nothing but dark memories for her: of pain and loss and fear. He had not asked what she had heard, for the tears running down her face had been knowledge enough, and her evident distress had quickly ended their visit. Ginny knew that this place was his sanctuary: she knew of the voices, and of the love he felt present in that great room, and she understood his compulsion to return, even though she herself did not feel it. Ginny Potter heard screams when she approached the Veil, just as he himself had heard them, once.

She had not accompanied him again. Instead, she kissed him soundly and reminded him to be home in time for tea.

Sometimes, Harry would talk to the Veil, and he fancied that he heard the voices pause to listen. He had visited scarce days after defeating Voldemort; and once again when he had been planning to propose to Ginny. Although the voices never responded, it was an odd comfort to know that just maybe, they could hear _his_ voice, just as he heard them. And Harry Potter needed comfort.

"Ginny's pregnant," he whispered to the Veil, watching it flutter as the voices paused. "She's pregnant, and I'm happy, I really truly am happy…"

He imagined the emotions that would filter across their faces. Lily, pleased but concerned, and James, gripping her hands proudly, eyes filled with longing; Sirius beaming, and Lupin and Tonks exchanging grins of excitement…

"But I'm scared," Harry continued softly." I don't know how to be a father… to be in a family. Which isn't your fault," he added hurriedly. "I just… I need my family, and you're all I have."

It almost seemed cruel; that they could sit there, separated by a simple grey Veil, and yet be so far away.

Harry pressed his hands to the thin, fluttering Veil, feeling nothing but air. The Veil did not exist in life: only in death would he be able to examine its intricate folds.

This inaccessibility of death was its cruelest blow by far.

"Harry?"

Harry jumped, glancing at the Veil ludicrously. _Was it possible?_

"No, you idiot, over here!"

And Harry registered it was the voice of his best friend and brother-in-law, who strolled down through the great amphitheatre to greet him. Ron's eyes were shining with glee and held none of their usual nervousness in relation to his proximity to the Veil, and as they met halfway, he embraced Harry. Harry patted his back awkwardly, confused.

Ron pulled away, his beam every bit as bright as Harry had imagined Sirius' to be, and suddenly he understood. A slow smile filtered across his face.

"A father, Harry!" Ron was saying, his eyes huge. "You, you and Gin… Merlin, I can't imagine it. That's fantastic news!"

Harry grinned, raking a hand through his hair. "It is. I can't believe it." His voice was a hoarse whisper, as though to speak his disbelief aloud would be to prove the whole situation a figment of his imagination.

"Hermione's going to be at _me_ for kids, now, mind you, and honestly… You know how she is!"

Harry grinned. "Look, if I can be a father, I'm sure you'll do just fine. Family's important," he added softly.

Ron nodded sagely. "Oh yes – and speaking of family, Gin wants you home soon to help tackle Mum and Dad. You know how Mum was when Fleur fell pregnant, and since Ginny's her only daughter_…_"

Harry gave him a playful salute. "Right you are, I'd better hurry then - but I'll see you tonight, yeah? Dinner?"

Ron eyed the Veil apprehensively as Harry made his way back toward the entrance. Suddenly realising he was very nearly alone, Ron gave a shout, breaking into a run to catch up with his best friend.

Waiting by the doorway, Harry gave the Veil a reluctant smile. _Sorry about the interruption_, the smile seemed to say. _I have to get back to living. But I'll come back soon, I promise… _

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**A/N****: This is not the original chapter two. The original chapter two has now become a one-shot, _Departure_, because upon general consensus, it no longer fit with the story (or canon). I was planning this as a later chapter, but it also fits here quite nicely, I think. Anyway, as always I would love to hear your thoughts, so please leave me a review! (However, if you have already reviewed the previous chapter two you won't be able to do so again. Perhaps you might just add your thoughts to another review? I'd really appreciate the feedback!) Thanks for reading,**

**Lexie**


	3. Open Eyes Gaze Death

**Disclaimer:****Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

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_With my hands open, and my eyes open_

_I just keep hoping_

_That your heart opens_

- Hands Open, Snow Patrol

**Open Eyes Gaze Death**  
_2 March 1978_

I can remember how close I got. Standing there, sweating, reaching out over the edge of that huge cliff. The wind was rolling around, and my hair was probably so ruffled at that stage that Lily wanted to hex me. Then one day, she began to look up, and smile at me, and stretch back. A few times, our hands almost touched, and my fingers felt like they were going to fall off from straining; but it was worth it for her. And I was lying there on the edge of this massive cliff, stretching with all my strength, and our fingertips were centimeters apart. But they just weren't close enough to hers, and before I knew it, right in front of me, she was slipping away again.

And I just lay there.

I watched her fall.

I don't remember seeing her hit the ground. Maybe she never did?

But by the time that I'd scrambled down that huge cliff (why couldn't I have flown?) I found her lying there, eyes closed, tears trickling down her cheeks.

I sat there, stroking her hand and murmuring to her, and praying that somehow, she would wake up.

But when she opened her eyes, all I saw was death.

At least she was still breathing.

It was a terrible few weeks. Lily took her Mum's death hard: young people just aren't supposed to have heart failure. It's not the way the world is supposed to work. And I think Lily's sister blamed her, a bit. Thought that somehow, Lily should have been able to magic life back into her Mum, or something. Petunia had never taken the time to try and understand Lily's world, from what I could gather.

What was worse was that Lily's Dad lost it. Stopped eating. Actually, he stopped doing anything, really. Except sitting. He sat a lot.

How do I know, you ask?

Lily needed me, and I was there. Regardless of whether she saw me in any sort of romantic light, I was there, and I was determined to _continue_ to be there for her. That's what love is.

Of course, I wasn't the only one. Emmeline, and the girls, they were there too. They fussed over her a lot. But I was the one she came to for hugs. I was the official comforter.

I nearly kissed her a few times. She'd been warming to me at school, in a way that I was so sure I'd finally broken through. The morning that she got the news, we'd walked down to breakfast together, and I was just mustering up the courage to ask her to Hogsmeade. So, when I found myself alone with her a few times afterwards, it was very much a battle of wills: namely, my will to kiss her, and my will to comfort her. And somehow, I knew those two didn't go hand in hand. Not yet.

Sometimes, when she didn't know I'd gone, I apparated to her house and just sat with her father. He was a good man, Mr Evans.

You don't know what it is to watch someone waste away. I tried to help him - to keep him going, for Lily's sake, because she loved him, and I loved her. He made me promise to marry her, one day. I almost cried, because it was his way of saying goodbye, I think. And what can you say to a dying man who asks you that?

I don't think Lily was surprised when the second letter came. Car accident, this time. Well, not so much of an accident. He drove himself into a tree.

Lily didn't come out of her room for a week.

I went to her, instead. I listened to her crying, and I held her, and I kissed her forehead sometimes. She didn't seem to mind.

Sometimes I watched her sleep, wondering what I would do if she slipped away too. Because she just _couldn't_. I wouldn't have borne losing her.

Sometimes, life knocks you down. And you can sit in a dark room like Mr Evans and waste away to nothing in grief. Or, you can sit, and grieve, and then pick yourself up again.

One day, as I lay on my stomach on that cliff edge, she looked up at me, and smiled. I nearly fell off myself. Instead, I smiled back, and stretched my arms just that little bit further, and found her fingertips.

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**A/N****: I know, I know… cheerful, Lexie, think cheerful. **

**Well, you'll have to settle for moving and sentimental, I'm afraid. Besides, it's a nice ending.**

**For anyone who missed it, that was from James' point of view, although I would have thought that would be obvious.**

**Next fragment? A Reunion. Featuring Sirius. And hopefully, you can crack a smile at that one. Stay posted! Reviews will be appreciated xx**


	4. The Most Natural Thing in the World

**Disclaimer:****Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

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_If everyone cared and nobody cried_

_If everyone loved and nobody lied_

_If everyone shared and swallowed their pride_

_Then we'd see the day, when nobody died_

_And I'm singing_

_Amen… I'm alive_

- If Everyone Cared, Nickelback

**The Most Natural Thing in the World**

_25 May 1996_

A young woman stood, hands twisted anxiously, in the main terminal. The hall buzzed with activity as the new arrivals rolled in, a steady flow of people who appeared either relieved or reluctant - sometimes both.

She smiled, her eyes following lost individuals, as she saw them swept into their family's embrace. Sooner or later, all these people would disappear through another door – although it was more of a gate, really – toward home.

It was peak hour of course.

_He always _had_ been the most impractical of travelers,_ the young man thought ruefully as he fought to move forward to the arrivals gate through the influx of human traffic.

Ruffling his unruly black hair in impatience, the young man reached the turnstiles, found a tiny pocket of empty space, and settled in for the wait.

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There were raised voices at the desk. This was not uncommon, except that this new person appeared to be livid with rage. He flung the coloured brochure back into the welcome-woman's face and tried to fight his way back to the arrivals gate. Several metres away, leaning on a turnstile, the young man with messy black hair bit back a laugh, instantly recognizing the stubborn character struggling back through the curtained archway.

"HARRY!" the would be escapee bellowed at the top of his voice. "HARRY!"

The young man bit his lip, breath catching in his chest. Lightly he vaulted the turnstiles and raced over to the figure, intent on shutting him up. He was beginning to upset the other arrivals. Grasping the madman's shoulders, he tugged him around, frowning. The facial hair was new: the young man wasn't sure if he liked it.

The bearded man blinked. "Harry?" he asked.

Shocked, all he received in return was a stare.

Finally, the young man croaked, in what appeared to be a wounded sort of way, "Really Sirius, I would have thought you'd recognise your best mate."

The bearded man – evidently called Sirius – gaped.

"Merlin," he breathed. "Is that you, James?"

James simply nodded and bit his lip, struggling to hold back the sudden onslaught of tears that wanted to cascade down his cheeks. Sirius was having much less luck. His beard already wet, he launched himself onto James, sobbing.

"Fourteen years," he gasped. "Fourteen years too long, old friend."

James gave up trying to hold back the tears, but he smiled.

"How's my boy?" he asked quietly.

Sirius grinned then, his eyes shining. "You'd be so proud of him, Prongs. Spitting image of you."

"Except for his mother's eyes," James finished, also grinning. "Chip off the old block?"

Sirius nodded, gripping James' shoulder as though worried he might finally vanish. "Naturally. And speaking of Lily…?"

"Oh, she's here," James nodded, sounding nonchalant. "She didn't particularly fancy braving the crowd, so she's back further. I imagine she's rather anxious to see you, so lets get you signed in and then we can find her."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "_Signed in_?" he shook his head. "So I guess I am dead, then?"

James shrugged. "Do you feel dead? I don't. You don't _look_ dead. This is just the next step, Padfoot. Nobody really _dies_, in the traditional sense. We just… continue to exist, somewhere else."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "You know philosophy bores me, Prongs. I was just wondering why no one had arrested me yet, but that must be because I'm-"

"Moved on," James told him firmly. "Hang on – did you say _arrest_?"

The welcome-woman thrust a form forward with a grateful look to James, relieved that someone had made him calm down. Pointedly ignoring James, Sirius flashed her a smile of apology and meekly filled in his name.

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"This is the arrivals terminal," James explained cheerfully, sounding very much like one of those Muggle tour guides. "To your left is where all the Muggles go. I think Lily said they call it Helen, although for the life of me I don't understand why."

James and Sirius exchanged identical looks, a lament to the apparently infinite stupidity of Muggles.

"We take that door every so often when Lily wants to see her family," James added.

Suddenly they were out of the crowd flowing into the gateway to 'Helen' and were making their way further down the long hall toward another door.

"That's our door. Lily says you have to be magical to see it, but I think everyone's just blind, really."

Sirius shrugged. He was having problems processing all this. He was dead. He knew it, but he didn't feel it, and even stranger, he didn't feel sad. James certainly didn't look terribly sorry to see him.

Suddenly he noticed a lone figure leaning against a stone pillar. Her flaming hair was neatly pulled back into a casual ponytail and she was smiling – as beautiful as the last time he'd seen her.

James, oblivious to Sirius' halted progress, trotted happily over, smiling, and Sirius watched fondly as he embraced and kissed his wife.

"I'm seeing_ ghosts_," Sirius realised, entranced.

Except that they weren't ghosts. They weren't pearly and transparent, and they didn't drift around Hogwarts. They stood on their own two feet, as solid as life itself, looking perfectly... _normal._

Lily and James were regarding him curiously. Then, grinning, Lily stepped forward, toward him. Sirius met her halfway, as always, and picked her petite form up into a hug, spinning her round as she laughed delightedly.

_As if it were the most natural thing in the world to die._

And, lets face it: it is.

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**A/N****: Well… That's a little happy installment for you all. So what did you think? This kinda reminds me of the beginning and end of Love Actually, at the airports. I love that movie... **

**Next: Regulus? **

**Thanks for reading, reviews are always appreciated! **

**Lexie xx**


	5. In Death, You're Only As Old As You Feel

**Disclaimer:****Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

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_I don't feel any shame, I won't apologize_

_When there ain't nowhere you can go_

_Running away from pain when you've been victimized_

_Tales from another broken home…_

- Jesus of Suburbia, Green Day.

**In Death, You're Only As Old As You Feel**

_26 May 1996_

Regulus Black was only eighteen when he died.

Sitting at the kitchen table now, he stares about and smiles. As handsome as his brother, it is a bittersweet smile; one that says:

'_Its funny how things don't work out, sometimes.' _

Really, eighteen was too young to die. But Regulus isn't alone: and, just as eighteen was too young to die, so was twenty-one. But age has never stopped death, and anyway, Regulus doesn't feel he can complain in the slightest. Death has been good to him.

The woman at the stove has her back to him. Her wand is out, and she waves it over the frying pan in an effortless motion. Her husband slinks into the room, dressed simply in his boxers and dressing gown, and kisses her on the back of her neck.

Regulus clears his throat, and the man turns around, eyebrows raised. He firmly ties his robe closed with the fluffy cord.

"I didn't realize we had company," he murmurs, running his hands through his ruffled black hair.

Regulus smiles tightly, raising his pumpkin juice in greeting. "Morning James. Came as soon as I heard."

James nods, satisfied, and turns back to his flame-haired wife.

"What's for breakfast, Lils?"

The young woman snorts softly, and swats his hands away from the plate of bacon and eggs waiting by the stove.

"That's for Reg, and me, Potter," she tells him scathingly. "Make your own."

James grins. "Fine,_Potter_," he retorts.

Regulus rolls his eyes. "You two are disgustingly immature for this hour," he murmurs, accepting his plate from Lily with a smile and a quiet thanks.

Lily grins back. "I don't know about me, but James is _always_ disgustingly immature, aren't you, sweets?"

James holds up his hands in mock innocence. "Now really, Lily, it's a bit early to be throwing around such grave accusations."

"Oh grow-"

Lily's retort freezes in the morning air, and she half rises out of her seat. Regulus watches her lovely green eyes widen, watches James' teasing smile slip from his face. Finally, he too turns toward the doorway, and to the coldest reunion of his life.

Sirius had had a good morning. He woke to the sun filtering through his curtains, and shortly afterwards, his best friend had stuck his messy head of hair into his bedroom to announce that from the smell of things, Lily appeared to be cooking breakfast.

How quickly one's mornings can turn…

Sirius stares at the tumble of stylish black hair that sits at the breakfast table beside Lily, its owner in the middle of a mouthful of egg. Sirius has a very unpleasant hunch as to the identity of the owner of that particularly fantastic haircut.

He's pretty sure it belongs to someone Sirius hasn't seen in sixteen years. And, for that matter, someone he never planned on seeing again.

Someone who reminds him too much of a childhood that seems an age away…

That someone turns, realizing that everyone else in the room has stopped, as if momentarily halted by an Impedimenta jinx. Slowly, he turns and regards the figure in the doorway, smiling uncertainly.

Sirius' voice is much colder than he intends.

"What are you doing here?"

Lily and James exchange identical looks. Lily picks up her plate and James' morning newspaper, and gestures with a jerk of her head that they should leave. James sighs, flicks his wand at the stove and watches his cooked breakfast fly in a tidy arch onto his plate.

"We'll be upstairs," he tells the brothers quietly, before making a quick exit.

"I came as soon as I heard."

Regulus' voice is quiet and unsure. James has told him before that Sirius knew he'd changed sides, right before the end. Dumbledore had told them both his suspicions, in a private meeting not long after Regulus' disappearance. The problem was, James had neglected to mention that Sirius hadn't believed Dumbledore.

Regulus watches his brother, the irony of their near identical appearance not escaping him. He wonders if Sirius has realised he is young again, yet.

In death, you are only as old as you feel.

"You… you really did die?" Sirius gulps, and swipes a hand across his eyes.

Despite Dumbledore's words, he had never quite had the heart to believe Regulus had died. Or rather, as James had always suspected, Sirius had never dared to hope that Regulus had changed sides.

Regulus looks away. "I did the right thing."

They regard each other, glittering black eyes meeting glittering black eyes, and Regulus takes a tentative step toward him.

"You cared?"

Sirius gives a watery chuckle, closing their distance with that familiar, swift stride.

"I've always cared, little brother."

It's funny how things work out.

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**A/N****: I know, I know, long time in the making… meh. I write this when I have writers block from Mischief Managed, so you know… it happens. Anyway, what do you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts, as always…**


	6. Death Disruptive Of Routine?

**Disclaimer:****Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

_This could be the very minute_

_I'm aware I'm alive_

_All these places feel like home._

- Chocolate, Snow Patrol

**Death Disruptive Of Routine?**_  
3 June 1997_

Sunshine streamed through the gap in those stupid sheer blue curtains that had taken Lily's fancy so much. James rolled over and groaned, eyes once more squeezed shut, right arm absently flung across the bed, searching, searching…. And finding the mildly warm patch of rumpled sheets that signaled his wife was already out of bed. James sighed, and wished again, as he had so often, that Lily wasn't an early riser. This meant that he too would have to get out of bed and go to retrieve her, perhaps carry her back upstairs by force.

James rolled onto his back. He rested his clasped hands on his stomach and _breathed_. Perhaps if he stayed here long enough, _she_ would come to find him? He smiled at his hopefulness. But really, it was quite ridiculous, waking every morning to find extra bodies in his house – extra bodies that Lily seemed compelled to feed. Never mind that Sirius had lived as a bachelor for so many years, and was quite capable of looking after himself.

It was thoughts like these that sometimes tricked James' mind into believing that everything was absolutely normal. His days functioned on his normal routine, and they were deceptively busy enough to fool him into suspecting, as he was right now, that he _hadn't actually died_….

Of course, there was an overwhelming amount of evidence to suggest he had. The most significant of all being that his son – well, James could scarcely believe that he was a father, sometimes, and it was a strain to remember those days, caring for his child, however fondly he recalled them…. – _that his son_ was inevitably about to battle that horrible egomaniac Riddle (James refused to entertain that _stupid_ alias Riddle had given himself) and that inevitably, one of them would die.

Which brought James back to his comfortable, middle-class magical existence that led him to conclude that _death really wasn't that bad of a thing_.

Was it wrong, James wondered, to be content?

Was it wrong, to wake up every morning, and forget that he was dead?

Was it wrong to feel so… alive?

Lily would know, he thought. Lily always knew what was right.

James grinned easily, reassured, and comforted by his reassurance. He rolled out of bed and found his dressing gown. Deciding that a brush of his teeth would not go astray, he ambled into the bathroom, grinned at his reflection (who wished him good morning) and retrieved his toothbrush.

"Liiiily….!"

Lily Potter grinned at her husband's predictability. She had known, as always, that James would come downstairs looking for her, and that as per usual, he would only be dressed in his boxers and dressing gown. It was teasing, really, the way he did that, slinking into the kitchen and kissing her neck and whispering in her ear like he did.

But then, James had always known how to get a reaction from her.

Although, she conceded, it had taken him _quite a while_ to work out how to get the_ right_ reaction from her.

And there were those lips on the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. Through the thin, silky fabric of her own throw-over, Lily could feel the warmth of James' skin as he hugged her from behind, and the little individual ripples that ran across his abdomen - muscular, but subtly so.

"You got out of bed too early."

This whisper was an accusation, accompanied by an affectionate nibble on her earlobe that made her grin even wider.

She turned, tucking her smile away into a corner of her mouth and making her eyes wide and innocent.

"Well, we'll have to do something about that, won't we?" she replied mildly.

She loved to watch him react. Her response had surprised him, she could tell, and his hazel eyes gave off an impression of astonishment and something distinctly animalistic. If Lily didn't know any better, she would call that expression hunger, although it was a distinctly different hunger to his usual food-related complaint.

"Lily," he told her firmly. "I want to kiss you right now."

It was Lily's turn to be surprised, although she could no longer hide her smile.

"Oh?" she asked, and he grinned back, making it all the more clear that he had resolved not to.

His dressing gown still hung open at the front, and Lily raised her eyebrows.

_Patterned boxers at his age?_

Come to think of it, what was his age? Lily pushed the thought aside, labeling it as irrelevant and much too existential for the hour. Instead she went back to focusing on infinitely more important things, like… taunting her husband.

"I'm thinking _golden snitches flying through clear skies_ here, Potter. Any reason why?" she teased.

James gave her a very stern look, as if to illustrate that he was holding on to his resolution with hands, feet, and teeth.

"No idea," he responded, smile forced. "I'm sure if we were _alone_ you'd care to explain, but as Sirius is inevitably sitting behind me munching on _my_ toast as he reads _my_ morning paper…."

Lily laughed outright, and shook her head. "Slow down Mr. Territorial. We _are_ home alone, Regulus and Sirius left about an hour ago to visit Uncle Alphard."

James turned around, as if to check that Lily wasn't lying. He turned back to his wife, his eyebrows raised in an extremely earnest fashion.

"_Lily_," he complained, his voice high and childish, making her giggle.

Recovering, Lily forced herself to look serious and deeply concerned.

"James?"

Seconds later, Lily Potter found herself lifted from the ground, with the speed and agility characteristic of a former Quidditch player who was silly and vain enough to assume he still possessed all his strength and skill.

Lily smiled, nestling her head into James' bare chest as he carried her up the stairs, bridal style. His dressing gown had been thrown open when he picked her up, and was now billowing behind him like a Superhero cape. It occurred to her, vaguely, that she was being kidnapped in her own home, although she didn't mind one bit.

Lily felt him set her down gently on the bed, and the creak of the springs as he suddenly leapt, in a distinctly boyish fashion, to lie beside her, propped up on his elbow so that he could gaze down on her. His eyes were sparkling now, as if he had just done a very mischievous thing.

"We're home alone," he murmured, his brow suddenly creased.

Lily didn't like it when James frowned; it made him look much too old, in her opinion. Which was ridiculous, considering that they were dead and had apparently ceased to age.

"We're home alone, you _knew_ we'd be home alone…. And yet I have to kidnap you from the kitchen?"

Lily smiled sheepishly. "Well I got the boys breakfast, and then I was just-"

"I don't particularly care," James told her gruffly, kissing her. "All I care is that a man shouldn't have to go to such measures to spend a little time with his wife."

Lily agreed meekly, and allowed herself to be kissed again and again. Really, she felt James might have a point. Sirius was surely old enough to get his own breakfast, after all…

"Lily Potter, you get out of bed _much_ too early for my liking."

Lily couldn't have put it better herself.

There was someone knocking on the door downstairs.

"James, come on, we _have_ to answer it," she murmured reluctantly against his neck.

He sighed, defeated, and rolled over. "Fine."

He sounded just like a sullen child.

Lily kicked him, grinning. "Oh _grow up_, James Potter."

James grinned and kissed her cheek, cheekily. "Anything for you, my dear…"

"James, the door!"

"Could you get it, Lily? I'm a little… indisposed."

Lily bit her lip to discourage the spread of her smile, now dangerously big. She slipped on her throw-over, tying a deft knot at the waist, before making her way down stairs and opening the lovely little blue door that James had painted so carefully for her….

Standing on her doorstep was the last person in the entire existence of life, death and in-between that Lily had expected to find.

"Professor_ Dumbledore?"_

James appeared at her shoulder, and she fondly imagined him ruffling his hair in confusion. Sure enough, a glance confirmed her suspicions, and she turned back to the doorway, feeling that this whole situation was rather surreal. Not to mention embarrassing...

Lily could only imagine how they must look to Dumbledore, she standing there in a dressing gown, and James half-naked in his underwear. Indeed, the entire situation would probably be taken completely out of context, except that, well...

Dumbledore smiled.

He didn't look very different at all to what she remembered - hair white, long grey beard, half-moon spectacles and eclectic clothing.

"Please," he said, with that genuinely fond smile and a twinkle in his eyes. "Surely you should call me Albus, Lily. James?"

He offered his hand to shake, and James did so, looking puzzled.

Dumbledore regarded the couple, knowingly. "You two look well. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything?"

"Oh, no, of course not," James was incredibly quick to reassure him, inviting him inside with an effortless gesture and not looking the faintest bit embarrassed. "Er – I don't mean to be rude, _Albus_, but what are you doing _here_?"

Dumbledore blinked, surprised.

"I would have thought that was obvious, James," he spoke gently. "I died."

**A/N****: I had a little fun with this one (as if you couldn't tell), I hope you all liked it! I felt that perhaps a lightening of the mood wouldn't go astray. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts, and a little review would make my day… please? **

**Thanks for reading!**

**Lexie**


	7. Enough

**Disclaimer:****Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

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_My silence solidifies,_

_Until that hollow void erases you,_

_Erases you so I can't feel at all._

_But if I never fell again, at least that nothingness_

_Will end the painful dream, of you and me..._

- _The Sound of White_, Missy Higgins

**Enough**

_10 January 1999_

_Enough_. It was enough, now that he had helped to save her son. That he had died to help Harry. Perhaps, now, that would be enough.

Severus Snape shook his head, as though to clear it, and stared down at the tiny scrap of parchment crumpled in the palm of his hand. Written in the thin, spidery writing of his former headmaster:

_Merrily Cottage,_

_Evergreen_

_(Look for a blue door)_

_Lily's eyes are evergreen…_

With another shake of his head, that fleeting thought disappeared. Glancing back up at the cottage that now stood before him, Snape had that nasty feeling he had found the blue door. As if to confirm, the nameplate on the gate seemed to wink at him. He drew a rough, jagged breath.

In some ways, Snape had been looking forward to the reunion as much as he had been dreading it. On the one hand, he had not seen Lily for seventeen years now, and it would be nice, he felt, just to sit and watch her, like the old times…

On the other hand, it seemed inevitable that her husband, the insufferable Potter, would be present, and Snape didn't particularly feel up to facing Potter, not today.

Not ever again, in fact.

But he was being childish, and Dumbledore was right: he had put this off already for far too long. Dumbledore himself would shortly be inside that little cottage, as he had reassured Snape he would be, and Lily was there, Lily, the one who had slipped from his grasp like silk so many years before. He could do this, for her, just as everything he had ever done had been for her.

Steeling himself, Snape opened the little white gate and made his way to the front door. He knocked, twice, the noise echoing the dull thud in his heart.

_I can do this, I can do this, for Lily, always for Lily…_

There was a scraping at the door, and Snape watched as it was opened cautiously.

His stomach seemed to sink as James Potter answered the door. To be fair, Potter didn't look too pleased to see him either. Snape watched, feeling a faint sort of malicious pleasure as the colour drained from his schoolyard nemesis' still-youthful face. He hadn't changed one bit, it seemed. They stared at each other, each drawing themselves up to their full, impressive heights, each daring the other to make the first move.

And then, a shadow flickered across Potter's eyes, and he backed down.

Snape watched, amazed, as James Potter stepped away from the doorway, as if to allow Snape the room to enter. "You'd better come in."

Potter's quiet words seemed to confirm his actions. Snape watched as Potter's free hand, which had only moments before gripped his wand, now gestured, albeit reluctantly, for Snape to enter.

Then, as though he could no longer restrain himself, Potter turned and walked away, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and hunching his shoulders a bit. Snape followed him with his eyes, suspicious as he watched Potter disappeared through a doorway… But, much to Snape's surprise, Potter did not suddenly return, wand drawn, with that familiar glint of old malice in his eyes, as Snape had half-expected him to.

As quietly as he could, Snape let himself into Potter's house – _Lily's_ house – and shut the charming blue door.

He paused in the entranceway, uncertain as to whether he was supposed to have followed Potter, when he heard it. A sweet voice carried out of the far doorway on the right, as familiar to Snape as his own.

"Was there anyone at the door, James?"

Snape followed the voice, compelled, and suddenly found himself stepping into what appeared to be the Potters' kitchen. Lily had her back to him, but there was no mistaking that tumble of deep red hair. Potter's reply seemed to stall on his lips as he looked over his wife's shoulder.

Lily turned, slowly, and froze. She blinked.

"Severus?"

"Hello, Lily."

The tiny smile that accompanied her name seemed to make her husband stiffen with rage. In a moment, Potter strode across the kitchen to stand by Lily's side, arm slipping around her waist as his hazel eyes glittered arrogantly.

Lily sighed, and slipped out of his hold. Turning her back on Snape once again, she gazed up at her husband searchingly. It was all there in Potter's eyes: _he couldn't deal with him, not there, in his own home_.

Snape couldn't help but feel a small swelling of satisfaction in the fact that his mere presence threatened Potter.

But Lily was now speaking again, and Snape had gone without hearing her voice for too long to be able to resist pausing in his thoughts to listen.

"James," she murmured, her voice low. If Snape had been able to see those magnificent eyes of hers', he knew they would be deeply saddened. "I love you." The phrase was like a stake to his heart, but Snape stood frozen still, careful not to give any indication that he was listening. "I _love_ you. Now will you stop being an idiot?" There was a smile in her voice now, and Potter smiled too, reluctantly, as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

Snape watched hungrily as their fingers entwined. Lily turned back to him, looking resigned.

"How about we go into the garden?" she suggested, moving away from Potter toward the glass door that signaled entry to the backyard.

Her husband's grip on her fingers remained until the very last moment, and then she had disappeared outside. Potter met his eyes steadily, as if Lily's words had given him strength, and jerked his head toward the door, indicating that Snape should follow her. As he closed the door, Snape heard the scrape of a chair being drawn out from beneath the kitchen table, and Potter's heavy sigh.

Snape found Lily perched on the bench swing that hung beneath a sprawling oak. She leant forward, visibly anxious as her feet propelled the swing, back and forth, back and forth.

Somehow, Snape felt it would make matters worse, to join her. Instead, he planted himself in front of her on the grass and stared fiercely at her down-turned face.

Just as he was wondering how to begin, her voice broke the silence in an unexpected attack.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Snape was taken aback. He had expected to break his feelings to her gently, explain the lengths that he had gone to, and the intensity of his passion… At no point whatsoever had he considered she might already know.

"James knew, you know. He said he'd always known. And then _Dumbledore-_"

"What business does he have in this?" Snape all but howled.

He met her eyes, and for a millisecond green held black, and there was a fierce battle of wills. Lily won.

"Dumbledore told us you asked him to protect us – _me."_

Snape shrugged hopelessly, staring at her feet. Back and forward, back and forward._ This was going to be much more difficult than he had expected._

"Lily." He spoke her name softly, with great reverence, and the affection was evident in the thickness of his voice, as well as in his tentative smile. "What was I supposed to say? Was I to just come out and announce it? Let's not pretend you could have ever reciprocated, especially not once you had _Potter_. You would have never forgiven me, if I had told you, Lily. Especially not after the lake… incident."

His voice had quietened steadily toward the end of that monologue, and Lily's feet had stilled. Daringly, he glanced down into her face once more, and found her biting her lip.

"But – but didn't you think I deserved to know?" her voice was quiet too, and Snape suddenly realised the great hurt that he must have caused, to keep so big a secret from her.

Lily – Lily, who had been his best friend so many years ago, before their parting of ways – was hurt to realize that he hadn't trusted her enough to tell her of his crucial little revelation.

"You _did_ deserve to know," he admitted softly, his smile now twisted and ironic, lips quivering, disused to the action. "I just didn't have the courage to tell you."

Lily nodded shortly, accepting his words as an apology without even his need to imply it. She had always been intuitive like that. There was an awkward silence, through which Lily resumed swinging, and Snape scuffed his shoes in the grass until they formed a little patch of dirt.

"You seem happy, here," Snape remarked, without finding the need to add the words that accompanied this observation – '_with him.'_

Lily nodded. "I am. I mean – if I were given the opportunity, to have lived-"

Snape winced, knowing that this opportunity had in fact been presented to her, although he acknowledged now that he had never expected her to take it, and that he would have been even a little disappointed in her, if she had. Lily was not the type to let her child die without a fight.

"- for us both to have lived, and for Harry to have lived – to have been a family, like things were meant to be – I would have taken it," Lily finished, her voice soft. "But you can't go back, I suppose. And death – death is not unkind, Severus. We – James, and I – have been quite happy here, yes."

Snape nodded shortly. "Good. That's all I ever wanted for you," he added.

Lily was so shocked at the sincerity in his voice that she glanced up and met his eyes.

"So – so where do we go from here?" she asked hesitantly.

Snape shrugged, thrusting his hands into his pockets in a move that immediately brought to mind Potter. He withdrew them again, quickly.

"You go back inside to your husband, and I'll go home to my mother," he told her. "Just like it was always meant to be."

"Are we friends?" Lily bit her lip again, and she stood, as if to give herself something to do. "I mean, we'd have to start again, I think – you know, baby steps – but, you know… We were always friends, weren't we?"

"The very best," he agreed softly, and then nodded. "Yes, friends. I'd like that very much."

_To be continued…_

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**A/N: Deathly Hallows got me thinking… How would Snape and Lily deal with meeting again, in death? Well, this is my take on it, anyway, but I'd love to hear your thoughts! And stay tuned for what happens next – I'll post that, soon, once I've finished it! Reviews are deeply appreciated**

**Lexie**


	8. Enough: Part Two

**Disclaimer:****Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

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_Cause everybody tries to put some love on the line_

_And everybody feels a broken heart sometimes_

_And even when I'm scared I have to try to fly_

_Sometimes I fall_

_But I've seen it done before_

_I got to step outside these walls_

_- These Walls,_ Teddy Geiger

**Enough: Part Two**  
_10 January 1999_

"_Are we friends?" Lily bit her lip again, and she stood, as if to give herself something to do. "I mean, we'd have to start again, I think – you know, baby steps – but, you know… We were always friends, weren't we?"_

"_The very best," he sighed softly, and then nodded. "Yes, friends. I'd like that very much."_

…

A weight seemed to lift miraculously from Snape's shoulders, and in wonder, he examined the face of Lily Potter openly for the first time in years. Before, he had watched her through a series of stolen glances: but now, now that she knew and did not hate him for it, now that she had once again offered _friendship_…

A shadow of a smile crossed Lily's face.

"Good." She sounded relieved. "Well, we'd best be getting back inside then, I'm sure you've given James a thorough fright-"

As the words left her lips, Lily seemed to realize that this was not, in fact, a diplomatic thing to say. Snape, who was still busy marveling over the second chance she seemed to have presented to him, barely noticed.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, as she seemed to demand a response. "It appears that he had nothing to worry about," he replied carefully, silkily.

"No," Lily agreed. "No, he doesn't. But you know James-"

Once again, as soon as she had spoken, it seemed to occur to Lily that Snape did _not_ in fact know James. This time, they rode the uncomfortable silence, until Lily sighed.

"Never mind. You _will_ get to know James, Sev. Starting from now, all right?"

As this seemed important to her, he nodded shortly, in an apathetic sort of way. "If it's so important. After you, then, Lily."

Lily opened the door to re-enter the kitchen, and let out a disbelieving laugh. Hovering behind her in the doorway, Snape blinked as his eyes scanned the faces of the new additions to the Potters' cozy little home.

Sirius Black sat beside his best friend, glaring at Snape. Beside Sirius, Regulus seemed lost for words. The eyes of Albus Dumbledore twinkled knowingly from behind his half-moon spectacles, and leaning against the wall beside Dumbledore was Remus Lupin, regarding Snape curiously. Snape looked away, uncomfortable. Lily seemed torn between derision and amusement.

"What is this, a _support group_?"

Potter, sitting in the middle of them all, shrugged, eyeing Lily uncertainly. "Do I _need_ a support group?"

Lily planted her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow, challenging him. "Now why on earth would _you_ need a support group, Potter?"

Snape looked from one to the other, completely perplexed. For the first time ever, and with not a little surprise, he realised that he desperately hoped that he _hadn't_ destroyed Lily's marriage.

Husband and wife stared at each other, as though no one else was present.

Then, suddenly Potter gave a great laughing '_whoop!_' rushed to his wife and scooped her up, carting a giggling Lily from the kitchen.

Snape remained where he was, nonplussed.

Regulus shrugged, and drew out the empty chair beside him.

"They _do_ that, sometimes," he explained, softly, indicating that Snape should join them at the table. "I wouldn't worry too much. I take it things went well, then?"

Sirius frowned. "Oh, I'm not so sure, Reg. It appears that Sniv- _Snape_ - didn't exactly get what he came for, did he?" he asked loftily, wincing as his younger brother aimed a swift kick at him beneath the table.

"_Behave_," Regulus told Sirius, who rolled his eyes.

Feeling Dumbledore's questioning gaze on him, Snape took the seat beside Regulus. "As well as could be expected, I suppose," he murmured.

Sirius snorted but, with warning looks from his brother and Lupin, remained silent.

Snape frowned, meeting Sirius' eyes determinedly. "I'm _not_ trying to steal her away from Potter," he offered disdainfully. "And frankly, you should know Lily well enough to appreciate how many ways I would have been hexed already if that _was_ my intention."

Sirius' mouth twisted in his haughty face, as if he was struggling with his innermost thoughts. Then, reluctantly, almost apologetically – "I still don't trust you."

Snape was unconcerned - he'd never cared for Black's good opinion before, and he didn't plan to start now. Instead he busied himself with glancing around at Dumbledore, who at that moment decided that he too might take a seat in the Potter's kitchen. Lupin silently slipped into the remaining seat.

"Trust can be earned," Dumbledore spoke evenly, his eyes level with Sirius.

"I believe him," Lupin spoke suddenly, voice quiet yet assured, although his eyes were focused uncertainly on Sirius' face. "Besides, Padfoot, this isn't our battle to fight."

Sirius held up his hands, as though proclaiming his innocence. "You know what? I'm with James. Whatever he decides, you know? It's his call."

Lupin smiled, pleased, as Snape regarded them all scornfully.

"I suppose," he said dryly," I should settle for that, since its likely the best offer I'm going to get, from you at any rate."

"What offer?"

Lily and Potter had reappeared in the doorway, their faces flushed and their eyes shining. Potter had his arms wrapped around her from behind, her hands resting on top of his, and he was grinning carelessly at the group settled around his kitchen table.

"It doesn't matter," Sirius replied, equally as careless.

Snape was surprised at how quickly his face had transformed. The moment Sirius had seen James and Lily together, obviously all right, the resentment had lifted from his eyes, and the resemblance he now bore to Regulus was striking.

Potter shrugged. "All right, then," he replied easily, as Lily turned her face up to his and murmured something so softly that Snape was unable to catch it. Once she had finished, Potter continued as though she hadn't spoken. "And speaking of offers, I hope you're all staying for dinner." His eyes met Snape's, serious. "_All _of you."

…

It was almost out of his comfort zone, to be in a household so happy and relaxed, Severus Snape reflected. He sat outside on the bench swing beneath the old oak tree, his legs slowly propelling the seat back and forward, back and forward, mimicking Lily's movements several hours earlier. Several hours that felt like years. He had thought that it would be enough, to talk to Lily, and to hope that this would free him of her. He had never expected to become hungry for more, even if that more was mere friendship. In fact, to Snape, friendship with Lily was quite enough: and he thought, now, that he might be able to live with himself, since friendship was enough.

Sirius had relaxed his attitude toward Snape as soon as Potter had expressed his approval, and the meal had been comfortable, even pleasant. But it did not seem real, not to him, and that was how Snape found himself outside, alone, staring up at the white-washed cottage, deep in thought. He was predisposed to regard this entire experience suspiciously, and any other reaction would have startled Snape himself.

Snape was so deep in thought that he did not notice the back door open, light spilling onto the lawn, nor the silhouetted figure that made his way toward him in the darkness.

In fact, Snape didn't notice he had company until James Potter sat beside him on the bench swing, and offered him a bottle of Butterbeer.

Snape accepted it silently, turning the bottle, the inconspicuous peace offering, round and around in his hands. He couldn't help but wonder whether Lily had explained things to Potter, and supposed that she probably had. After all, they _had_ been gone for a while, and Snape infinitely preferred to suppose they had been discussing _him_ rather than… anything else. The two men sat together, taking deep swigs of Butterbeer as they gazed up at the house. Potter, he imagined with contempt, seemed to be doing exactly what Lily had ordered. That was, until -

"She says you're going to try and start again."

Snape glanced, surprised, toward his companion, but there was no mistaking that he was the one who had spoken, just as there as no doubt as to the identity of 'she'. That solved _that _question, then, about them talking. At a loss, he simply nodded, unsure of how to reply.

"And you know what? I hope it works, I really do. All I want is for Lily to be happy." The words were quiet, and spoken with great care. "And I think that at the end of the day, that's what you want too, isn't it?"

Snape nodded once again, unable to stop himself from responding mechanically, although with a hint of distaste (for all lovers were fools), "You must love her very much."

And Severus Snape was the biggest fool of them all.

Now it was Potter's turn to be surprised, glancing at him in the half-darkness. "I do. She's a very easy woman to love," he replied lightly, easily candid, and Snape hated him for it. "You know that as well as I."

Snape pursed his lips, uncomfortable with Potter's tone. They were, after all, discussing a very serious matter. However, the very fact that Potter could take the news lightly suggested… well… a certain confidence in the bond between his wife and himself – a bond that Snape surmised he could not even begin to imagine. It had always been obvious that Potter cared for Lily, but this was the first time Snape had bothered to consider that perhaps Potter loved her just as much, if not more, than Snape himself.

"You make her happy," Snape offered haughtily, struggling to make a conscious effort for Lily's sake, and repulsing himself in the process. He was immediately offended by the pleased expression that crossed over Potter's face. _But Lily would not be offended,_ Snape reminded himself. _Lily would be pleased, to have Potter so pleased with himself, the arrogant-_

"I should hope so," Potter replied. "She means the world to me. We're very happy."

There was a tone of genuine affection in Potter's voice that surprised Snape. And, in turning Potter's words around and around in his mind, Snape came to a startling conclusion about himself, one that escaped him without him quite intending it: "All I've ever wanted for her is happiness and comfort, Potter. Even if it is with you."

It was now Potter who was at a loss for words, as if he could scarce believe that he was spending his death with Severus Snape, amiably discussing the woman they both loved, much to the embarrassment of both parties. Snape watched as Potter played with his half-empty bottle, drumming his fingers along it, and realized contemptuously that Potter was just as uncomfortable as he was. And then came the tell-tale sign: Potter ran his fingers through his hair, an unconscious act, but one that Snape knew from their shared youth indicated nerves.

_Good. If Potter can be nervous, then so can I. _Snape considered his own bottle of Butterbeer, Potter's olive branch of peace. The branch, he imagined, was as green as Lily's eyes. He saw her face within his mind's eye, and immediately became repulsed by the feeling that washed over him. There was a very good reason, Snape decided, why he had always held love with such mistrust. It appeared encourage an inclination to do and say stupid things.

And Snape knew, then and there, that he would do anything necessary to remain in Lily's life. She had been gone from his for too long, and if seeing her again meant also seeing Potter, and even accepting his peace offering - well, Snape decided that Lily was worth that sacrifice of his pride. She was even worth the effort and embarrassment that came from making Potter a peace-offering in return.

"Your boy – Harry – he's just like you."

In the light from the kitchen doorway, Snape could have sworn he saw Potter smile. "Is that a good thing?"

Snape smiled too, a wry curve that felt unfamiliar to his lips. Ah, if only now it was Lily smiling, and then his hunger could be truly satisfied.

"He's just like his mother in some ways, too," Snape admitted. "Sensible, although sometimes irrational. But all I could see in him was you, the first time I met him. I think now, perhaps, that he has at least the good in you. The good in both of you. He's a good person. You should be proud of him."

This time, Potter actually laughed. "There's good in me?"

Snape did not seem to offer any encouragement (for Merlin forbid he sink any lower), and Potter swiftly changed tact, deciding perhaps that his son was an easier topic of conversation. "And Harry's like his mother? Well, that's a relief. I wouldn't want him running around getting in trouble like I used to do, anyway."

Potter stood up, and the swing creaked as it was alleviated of his weight. Snape stood too, because that seemed the thing to do. Potter tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, frowning slightly. From the tension in his face, Snape was surprised Potter's hand did not jump to his hair once again.

"Look – I want to make this work, because it's so important to Lily. Do – do you think we c-?"

Snape smirked condescendingly. How feeble! And yet- without realizing what he was doing, he offered Potter his hand to shake. If the roles were reversed, if he was the one Lily would choose above all others, Snape suspected he too would be treating the man in his current position in a similar, bumbling manner.

"You're all right, Potter."

Potter took his hand and shook it. His grasp was firm and friendly, and for the first time within Snape's living memory, they met each other's eyes without glaring.

"You're all right too, Snape."

They stood looking at each other for a short time, before they let go of the other's hands, and made their way up to the house together. Potter was the first to enter, and he paused in the doorway, turning back to his guest.

"You know, if – if we're going to try _friendly_… You should call me James."

Snape wondered why this surprised him – Potter seemed to be positively brimming with surprises tonight. The irony was not lost on him, either._ Merlin_ they were both fools for her!

He blinked. "If you want, Potter."

"James."

Snape raised his eyebrows and exhaled sharply. "All right – James."

James turned and made his way back into the house, relief evident in his stride. The kitchen was now empty, and sounds of laughter were carrying from the dining room where Lily sat with her dinner guests. Nymphadora Tonks had joined her husband, and their party now sat around the table, which had yet to be cleared of empty plates, chatting animatedly. Their laughter stalled as James returned, taking his place beside Lily and kissing her hand. She read the look in his eyes and nodded, satisfied. Lupin and Dumbledore turned to Snape, who lingered in the doorway, drinking in the sight of his strange companions and wondering, just vaguely, in exactly which way the Dark Lord would have killed him, had he known the company Snape now kept. Of everyone that Snape had ever met, this was the group he had _least_ expected to find himself welcome amongst.

"So what are your plans now, Sev?" Lily broke the silence lightly.

Snape frowned in a derisive sort of way, and cast his mind around for a piece of information to offer. He had no plans – he had had enough of planning his every move as relentlessly as he had done for so many years. In fact, Snape rather suspected he would enjoy this new, uninhibited lifestyle.

Much to everyone's surprise, it was James who rescued him from the uncomfortable silence.

"Well I don't know about you, Severus, but I can't help thinking of that lovely chocolate cake Lily has ready and waiting for dessert."

Sirius dropped the fork he had been toying with, with an audible clatter. The Lupins exchanged looks of surprise, while Regulus met and held Snape's gaze readily. Only Dumbledore seemed unaffected, gazing placidly at the Gryffindor-red curtains that covered the long window.

Lily had turned to stare at James too, utter shock and then pride etched across her pretty face. And then, she had kissed him full on the lips in front of everyone, and the gazes of everyone else turned once more to Snape, who found that he would watch the display without staring, without resenting Potter – _James_ – his happiness. In actual fact, the thought of them made him feel a little nausious, in the pit of his stomach, and it wasn't from jealousy.

Love was a disgusting thing, he decided suddenly.

"Dessert sounds good," Tonks interrupted hurriedly, rising to her feet and tugging her husband's hand. "Come on, we can sort it out, can't we, Remus? Although I think it would be best if you do the organizing, I'd probably drop it-"

As if to illustrate her point, Tonks tripped on the leg of Dumbledore's chair, surprising James and Lily out of their little world as she yelped. Lupin caught her easily, and she beamed at him sheepishly before continuing into the kitchen. And Snape was left to sink into his seat beside Dumbledore, marveling once again at the night's strange turn of events.

…

"Good night!" Tonks called cheerfully as she recovered from her stumble down the garden path. Lupin grinned at her side and waved.

Merrily Cottage had emptied of guests: all but one remained, hovering in the doorway as he was permitted to kiss his hostess on the cheek, and shake her husband's hand.

"You really should stop by again soon," James offered seriously, his arm settled comfortably around Lily's waist.

She leaned into him unconsciously, nodding her agreement. "Please don't be a stranger, Sev. And owl me when you find a place, yeah? We'll come to you!"

There was a great crash from the kitchen, and the three of them stiffened, alarmed. Lily extricated herself from James and bid Snape goodnight once more, hurrying into the back of the house.

"James!" they heard her exclaim. "The kettle is sparking again, and – oh!"

Snape turned to James. "You may want to go."

James nodded easily, still leaning against the doorpost comfortably. "Lily's right, you know. Don't feel unwelcome, or anything." His voice was hesitant, as if once again he could not believe he was having this conversation with Snape, of all people. To give him credit, James plowed on, although somewhat awkwardly, "I think we'll have a fine old time, furthering our acquaintance, if tonight was anything to go by. I'll even look forward to it."

"_James_!"

Snape glanced toward the kitchen door. "Naturally – shouldn't you...?"

James nodded again and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. Although he would die before admitting it to Snape, he clearly felt mildly embarrassed at the extent of his hospitality. "Yeah, probably. Good night, then."

"Good night."

And as Severus Snape let himself out of the little gate, he glanced back at Merrily Cottage. His dark eyes were thoughtful as he walked away, and he shook his head, once more. Whatever he had expected from that little house, it had delivered something else, something beyond his wildest dreams. Friendship with Lily, and an acquaintance with her husband? Best of all, freedom from the weight that he had seemed to carry with him, that weight of unrequited love, that unbidden jealousy. Freedom. If this was what death had in store for him, Snape had a feeling it would be _more_ than enough.

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**A/N****: Well this took a little longer than I expected – I just couldn't get Snape right, but I think I have it now – I had him shrugging a lot, and had to restrain myself, because that's such a James thing for him to be doing. But please don't hesitate to concrit my characterization of him because I **_**did**_** have trouble. And look at the length! This is the longest installment to **_**Memento Mori**_** that I have ever posted!**

**Anyway - I'm not sure about you guys, but I'm very proud of James and Snape stepping outside their comfort zones and setting aside their differences for Lily. **

**Is this the ending you were expecting? I'd **_**love**_** to hear your thoughts!**

**By the way, although I don't often do dedications, this one is for that crazy Cuban Sombrero Gal, who gave me the biggest laugh I've had in days when she declared that I had created L/S death canon! So Cuba, whilst I don't really agree, I decided to give you a piece of your very own "death canon". Gosh that sounds morbid…**

**Over and out!**

**Lexie**


	9. This New Thing

**Disclaimer: Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

**A/N:**** Thanks to ****Literati and naley forever,**** who mentioned this song to me!**

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_Yours is the first face that I saw_

_I think I was blind before I met you_

_Now I don't know where I am_

_I don't know where I've been_

_But I know where I want to go_

_And so I thought I'd let you know_

_That these things take forever_

_I especially am slow_

_But I realize that I need you_

_And I wondered if I could come home_

_- First Day of My Life,_ Bright Eyes

**This New … Thing**  
_1 June 1998_

The mist was so thick that Fred could scarce see the hand he held in front of him. He marveled in it, those great thick clouds of white that covered everything and spared nothing.

"Hello?" he called into the emptiness.

The fog did not seem to hold a reply; and if it did, it was well concealed. Fred wracked his brains. _What had he been doing last?_

"Percy? I know you've only just developed a sense of humour, but this is a terrible joke, mate."

Once again, the white clouds yielded no answer.

Fred played with the fog thoughtfully, wondering where he was. The endless white inexplicably brought to mind the Peruvian Instant Darkness powder that he and George sold at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It was an interesting concept, he thought, to have the powder white instead of black. Certainly _useful…_ He tucked that idea away for a more appropriate moment, when he could share it with his twin.

_What else could the fog mean?_

Fred's blood ran cold. _Dementors!_ Bloody inconsiderate time for them to be reproducing too, he thought scathingly. But then, his breathing slowed, and Fred realised that he could not, in fact, feel the unmistakable sadness that was so often a dead giveaway to their presence.

So perhaps it wasn't dementors after all, then.

_George would know_, Fred thought wistfully.

"Hello?" he tried again. "Hello!"

The ground was spongy underfoot, and for the first time, Fred realised he stood on grass. Funny, he didn't recall being out on the grounds of Hogwarts. He wondered at the absolute absence of noise. Surely, somewhere nearby the battle was still raging? Fred looked skyward apprehensively. He didn't particularly fancy being trodden on by one of those giants...

_Who had been out on the grounds?_ He wondered suddenly. _There had been Kingsley… and Lupin!_

"Lupin?" he yelled into the mist. "Kingsley? Can anyone hear me?"

"Hello!"

Fred blinked uncertainly. It appeared that someone _had_ replied, although he couldn't determine where from.

"Hello?" he tried again.

This time, eyes squinting against the near-blinding whiteness, he saw them; Lupin and Tonks, arm in arm, walking blindly through the mist.

"Lupin! Tonks!" he exclaimed, pleased, examining them eagerly as they traveled into focus. Both looked a little worn and weary, but on the whole no worse for the battle. They reached him with at a slow, almost a deliberately reluctant, progression.

Tonks peered up at him. "A Weasley?" she asked, dismayed.

Fred frowned, affronted. "Hey, we're not _that_ bad!"

He moved closer, eyes narrowed, and saw that her eyes were strangely bright. Although the arm Lupin had around her appeared casual, it became apparent that she was leaning heavily on him for support. Lupin shook his head, refusing to meet Fred's eyes.

"I think you misunderstand," he murmured quietly.

Tonks bit her lip, gazing up at him critically. "Fred or George?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Guess."

Lupin sighed, surreptitiously scanning his face, until his eyes seemed to register the presence of a left ear. "Fred, then, I presume?"

Fred nodded mutely. Lupin clasped him on the shoulder, bracingly.

"Look, Fred – I think this is going to come as a bit of a shock, but I'm afraid…. I'm afraid we suspect we're dead."

Fred's ears roared in the ensuing silence, and he stared at them, mouth moving soundlessly, not seeing a thing. _Dead? But he couldn't be dead! He – he'd just been laughing with Perce, of all people, and he had to tell George about the…. _George. He wouldn't see George again, not if he'd died. At least, not for a very long time. Hopefully, a very long time, if he was dead. But then again, Lupin could be wrong…

"Dead?"

Lupin nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

"But are you _sure?_"

Tonks fixed him with a steely glare. "Of course I'm sure, you idiot," she snapped. "I _saw_ Remus… I saw him…" she trailed off softly, and for the first time Fred saw she looked vulnerable, wrapped up in her husband's arms.

Fred blinked. Well, that seemed to settle things, if she had seen…. Well, it seemed rather understandable that the unshakeable Auror was upset. If anything were to cause Tonks to fall apart, Lupin dying would probably have to top the list…

But was he _really_ dead?

Surely, he would have noticed. _Surely._

A pang formed in his chest. _George_. He'd never been without him, and now, in this new state of being, it was as though the need for his brother had never been stronger. George, he felt, would know what to do, how to cope… Fred realised that he was mourning his brother, ironic, considering he was the one who had, well… It was as though he had lost half of himself during this strange business of death.

And it_was_ strange, Fred thought. Although he had never actually considered the matter before, death certainly _did_ seem to exist.

Another shout, almost childish, interrupted Fred's thoughts, and Lupin and Tonks' embrace. Fred's heart sank even further.

"Hello? Can anyone hear me?"

"Over here!" he replied feebly, experiencing the terrible knowledge that Tonks and Lupin must have shared before coming across him: there was no comfort he could offer, for this child. No comfort at all.

A figure emerged from the mist.

"Oh!" said Colin Creevey, beaming. "Hello. I'm awfully glad I found someone. What do you suppose has happened?" His eyes grew wide as he seemed to recognise his companions. "You're Ginny's brother, aren't you? You had those sweets that made my nose bleed, and those fireworks?" he asked, his voice eager, as he turned to Lupin and Tonks. "And Professor Lupin! And…. And…."

"My wife, Nymphadora," Lupin supplied, his smile kind.

"Mrs. Lupin," Colin nodded politely.

Fred suppressed the sudden urge to smile; he was quite sure that Tonks had never been called 'Mrs. Lupin' in her life. Although, he thought wryly, there was a first time for everything. Even in death, apparently.

Lupin gazed at Colin gravely, as though trying to decide whether he ought to break the news to him. Obviously deciding against it for now, he turned to Fred once more.

"I think we should keep moving," he spoke, his mild voice quiet. "See if we can pick up any more… er…. Survivors."

Colin nodded enthusiastically. "I think I heard some more voices over…"

He peered about the mist uncertainly, and trailed off, face falling when he realised he couldn't place himself. Fred patted his back comfortingly. "Doesn't matter," he said kindly. "We'll find them."

And so Fred, Tonks, Lupin and Colin set off into the great emptiness, collecting the lost; and so it was that the dead, who Fred felt weren't half as intimidating as an army of Inferi, came at last to walk out of the mist, the Great Army of Hogwarts, and enter the terminal.

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"Fred! Fred!"

"Oi, Weasley!"

Fred turned, surprised, to find two red-haired men waving and beaming at him from across the cavernous hall. Lupin and Tonks had disappeared some time ago, and now, finding himself alone in this crowded place, Fred had not even considered that any one else would know him.

Approaching the source of the voices, Fred froze, momentarily believing himself to be looking upon himself and George, before shaking himself out of the impossibility and making his way over to them. It became apparent, as he drew nearer, that these men were not (as he had first mistaken them) versions of an older George and himself at all: they were twins, most certainly, and full-grown men, but there were deliberate differences between their appearance and his own.

Suddenly, it occurred to George that these two must be his uncles, his mother's brothers, the Prewett twins who died in the first war.

"Gideon," Gideon introduced himself, smile friendly.

"Fabian," his twin added quietly, extending a hand for Fred to shake. "You probably don't remember us, but…"

Fred snorted derisively. "Remember you? It'd be bloody hard to forget, what with my Mum and all her-"

"-Photographs," Gideon finished, rather fondly. "How could we forget? Molly was always one to be sentimental…"

Fred rolled his eyes. 'Oh, I can only imagine what a fuss she's kicking up over this."

He gestured to himself, suppressing his pang at the thought of his mother's grief. Fabian met his eyes knowingly.

"If I know one thing about my sister, its that she never makes a fuss unnecessarily-"

"- Unless its about the children, and then its _always_ necessary," Gideon finished, grinning ruefully.

He slung an arm around his nephew's shoulders.

"Come on, then, young Weasley. We were just in the middle of something when the call came to get you."

Fabian nodded, pleased. "I'll say. We'll be in trouble if we don't hurry back to help finish up, mark my words."

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Fred was in a park. There was grass, lush and green, and trees, ancient and beautiful, and flowers, and the sky was blue and cheerful. There were people all around him, and right in front of him, moving easily through the crowd, strolled his Uncles, greeting a multitude of faces that appeared mildly familiar. Every now and then, one would glance over their shoulder to make sure that Fred was still with them, or to introduce him to someone.

At that very moment, his Uncles stopped once more, and Fabian wrested the end of a trestle table from a red-haired woman with a gallant smile. A vaguely familiar man with very untidy hair at the other end of the table grinned ruefully and thanked him, and together, Fabian and the man moved off toward a tree, leaving Gideon, Fred, and the woman, whose hair suggested she who could be their distant relation, to watch.

"And this is my nephew, Fred," Gideon was telling the young woman, clapping a hand on Fred's shoulder. "Fred, this is Lily Potter."

Fred blinked as Lily Potter smiled prettily and held out her hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Fred – Fred? Is he quite all right?"

Lily frowned up at him in concern as Fred gazed into her face, eyes glazed.

Gideon nodded, with an apologetic smile. "He just came over today, I'm afraid, Lily. With Lupin, in fact. You know what it's like, I think he's a tad disorientated."

"Lily Potter?" Fred repeated finally, in a dazed sort of voice.

Lily smiled encouragingly and nodded. "I'm very pleased, and very sorry, to meet you, Fred."

This appeared to be the standard greeting, then, as he had heard the same words from the lips of many others already. Though, from her, it seemed at the very least to be sincere.

Fred returned her smile slowly. "You're Harry's Mum, aren't you?"

A flicker crossed Lily's face, and she frowned. "I am," she agreed warily.

Fred grinned. "But that's excellent! Oh, I can't wait to tell him that I've seen-"

Fred seemed to realize that he probably wouldn't be seeing Harry anytime soon, and his face fell. Lily's expression, on the other hand, brightened.

"You know my son?" she whispered, like a small child. Her eyes – which Fred noted, now, were identical to Harry's own eyes – lit up in her pale face, and she beamed.

"Know him? Blimey, Mrs. Potter – my little brother is Harry's best friend! He's stayed with us almost every summer since second year, and he and my sister are bloody well in lo-"

Fred broke off, deciding that it wasn't probably appropriate to share that information with Harry's mother just yet: not that she seemed to notice.

Lily had followed his speech eagerly. "Oh goodness, this is wonderful, I am _so_ pleased to meet you, Fred, more than I can say – Oh, just wait until James hears!"

"Until I hear what?" The messy haired man was back, and as he took his place beside his wife, Fred performed yet another double take. For a moment, it was almost as though Harry and Ginny were standing before him, a few years from now, smiling at each other with _that look_ in their eyes… Fred studied Harry's parents, grinning, as Lily introduced him. Just like his wife, James' face (uncannily similar to Harry's) lit up at the news that Fred was a friend of their son's, and he shook his hand eagerly.

"A real pleasure," James reassured him, beaming. "Such a terrible day, you're much too young, and yet-!"

"Blimey – a Weasley!"

Yet another person approached their small group, and Fred stared, amazed, at a much younger looking Sirius Black, who was frowning at him thoughtfully. "No, don't tell me – it's George, isn't it?"

"Sorry, Fred," Fred told him apologetically.

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh, and gave him a swift, one-armed hug. "Oh well, I never could tell you two apart. How've you been?"

Lily looked scandalized. "Oh Sirius, of all the things to say!"

Sirius turned to her, eyes glittering with mischief. Fred watched him, amazed. The Sirius Black who stood before him now seemed much more, well, alive, than he had several years earlier in Grimmauld Place.

"Relax," Sirius soothed her. "Fred doesn't care, do you, mate? You know he and his brother found the Marauder's Map, James? Stole it from Filch's cabinet, no less! Passed it on to Harry, they did - or so Harry said."

James appeared even more impressed. "Really? You must tell me all about it some time, Fred – But, er… we really do have to keep setting up – care to help us? We can always do with an extra pair of hands. Moony's already over there, making up for lost time." James flapped a hand, and Fred followed his line of sight to discover that Lupin and Tonks were indeed present, and already getting into the swing of things. He watched as they spread a Gryffindor-red tablecloth between them, tossing it into the air before settling it on a trestle table.

Fred nodded. "Sure, why not?" He paused thoughtfully. "Er – what exactly are we setting up for?"

"Why, to celebrate, of course," yet another familiar voice murmured from behind him. Fred turned, startled, to come face to face with Professor Dumbledore, whose eyes twinkled sadly behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Professor, sir, sorry…. But does this mean we won? Harry did it?"

Dumbledore beamed, delighted. "It does indeed Mr Weasley. An astute observation."

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**A/N 2#:**** Well, I had more trouble writing this than I expected, but I think that finally I've managed to do justice to Fred and Remus and Tonks! What did you think? Also, how was Colin? I wasn't quite sure how to write him… I would love to hear your input, as always, and thanks for reading! **

**Lexie**


	10. Soul Searching

**Disclaimer****: Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

**A/N****: Although you may not realize it, this is a double update! That's right, Chapter Two has been replaced, and so before you all read this, I urge you to go and read that too, because I would love to hear your thoughts. You won't be able to review it, if you already reviewed the previous chapter two, so you know, if you have any thoughts I suppose you could either anonymous review me, or include them in a review for **_**this**_** chapter. Enjoy!**

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_Too many people living in a secret world_

_While they play mothers and fathers_

_We play little boys and girls_

_When we gonna make it work?_

_I could be happy_

_I could be quite naive_

_It's only me and my shadows_

_Happy in our make believe_

- _Advice For The Young At Heart,_ Tears for Fears

**Soul Searching**  
4th December 1997

The breeze was pleasantly brisk as Albus Dumbledore made his way up the old hillside, knobby knees springing gently along the stone-hewn path. He could see his quarry now, a quaint stone cottage near the crest. Smoke curled from its chimney, and Dumbledore paused to regard it thoughtfully. This was the correct address certainly, yet now that he was here, it did not seem the sort of place that he had expected.

After all, such a wizard would surely command the respect of all who resided hereabouts, and for him to reside in such a homely place was deeply humbling.

Dumbledore conveniently neglected to consider that the lifestyle he saw before him was surprisingly similar to the home he had chosen for himself.

Dumbledore opened the little garden gate, stepped carefully up the path and rapped his knuckles on the front door smartly. Somewhere inside, a small explosion sounded, and the door opened of it's own accord.

A young man, who Dumbledore estimated to be roughly the same age as the Potters, peered at him inquisitively from an interior doorway. "Hello?"

"Good day," Dumbledore responded pleasantly, not in the least disconcerted by the youth's quizzical gaze, which traveled up and down his body, taking in his hair, beard and wrinkles with interest. "I am Albus Dumbledore. I believe I can find Merlin here?"

The man blinked and nodded, beckoning him inside. "Yes, of course, please take a seat. Won't be a moment, I'm sure you heard the- yes…."

He disappeared once more through a doorway that appeared to lead into the kitchen.

Dumbledore gazed around the house, displaying an insuppressible curiosity at the life the wizard he had regarded for so many years as something akin to his hero lived. Now he was inside, yes, this seemed to be the right place. Tattered books lined the walls, and a set of comfortable armchairs were set beside the window, where the best light for reading would be. Surmising that he was invited to take a seat, he swiftly selected the less-used chair, folding his hands politely on his lap.

The young man reappeared, and Dumbledore took the opportunity to examine him. His face was angular, eyes an intelligent shade of grey, concealed behind a curtain of dark brown hair, which fell to his shoulders. He was tall and thin, and moved with great purpose.

The young man set himself down into the vacant armchair, smiling. "Forgive me, Albus Dumbledore. I can't tell you how pleased I am to meet you at last."

Dumbledore blinked, a momentary betrayal of his surprise. For all his great knowledge, he had not expected – _surely…_

Merlin smiled wryly. "Ah, yes, Albus, I do apologise. I _am_ Merlin, as I expect you've observed for yourself."

Dumbledore raised his hands in protest, voice regretful. "No, no apology necessary, please. It is I who should apologise, when I, who should know better, have entered your home with preconceived notions."

Merlin leant back comfortably, not appearing to mind in the least. "Naturally, your notions are often correct, though. You are a man of great wisdom, that much is obvious."

Dumbledore watched him, impressed. It was one thing, he decided, to meet the man you had dreamt of meeting for a lifetime. It was another altogether to have an accidental insult brushed aside so easily.

"And yet, you seem uncertain. Is that why you have come, to partake in my own famed wisdom?" The idea seemed to amuse Merlin greatly.

Dumbledore bowed his head. "I am afraid so," he said apologetically. "You see, we seem to have a problem."

Dumbledore met Merlin's eyes for the first time, and found they were glowing with a deep intelligence. The younger (and yet older) man smiled cheerfully.

"My friend, I am sure there is not a problem we cannot solve if we, the two great minds of our time, put our heads together."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Certainly I would not dare to call myself a great mind, or of anything equal to you," he protested modestly. "I come for advice, certainly."

Merlin nodded. "Naturally, you would underestimate yourself. I find it happens frequently. And yet, you will come to accept the extraordinariness you carry, I think. Do not be fooled: it is an idea that constantly humbles me."

"Is it possible, do you think, that Lord Voldemort could make his presence here?"

The question escaped Dumbledore's lips prematurely, yet he met Merlin's eyes levelly as his companion tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"I had the same concern with Morgana, a while back," he murmured casually, as though they were discussing a sudden influx of gnomes into his garden, "but she didn't seem to make it across, no."

Dumbledore persevered. "I suspect that one requires a soul, whole and unblemished, to pass into this place."

Merlin smiled broadly, his delight almost childlike. "Now, I've never thought about it on those terms, although I am sure you are correct. How excellent! And yet, it must be so. After all, without a soul, one simply ceases to exist."

Dumbledore did not have time to wonder at this easy confirmation, even less at Merlin's apparent philosophical revelation, for once more, the young man leant forward, eyes no longer thoughtful, but excited.

"Of course, anything is possible. This place," he gestured his hands to include broadly their surroundings. "This place was built on an impossibility. When the first of us-" Dumbledore assumed this to mean the magical community "- happened upon this place, I believe they might simply have pulled out their wands and waved them around a bit. It simply _amazes_ me how many ideas are realised from impossibilities. Eternity built on the foundations of magic. _Brilliant_!"

Dumbledore gazed out the window thoughtfully. An existence – and certainly, one could only call this existence, for it was nothing more and nothing less than an afterlife – based solely on the magical abilities of a collection of witches and wizards from ages departed floored him to a point of serene acceptance. These men and women would have been naturally of great power, and somehow, Dumbledore imagined that Ignotus Peverell would most certainly have played his part. Ignotus had always seemed liberal-minded about death.

"I imagine the magic is maintained simply by our presence?"

Merlin nodded, pleased. "I suspect so. For as long as magic folk continue to reside here, here, wherever it is, shall continue to be _here_."

"And one who is not whole and pure cannot reach this place."

"They would corrupt the magic," Merlin concluded simply. "They are unwelcome."

A great sense of relief spread throughout Dumbledore's body, and he relaxed against the cushioned chair. Merlin seemed to read this in his eyes, for his own flickered with enjoyment. "I am sure you are eager to share this news with your contemporaries," he murmured, seeming for the first time reluctant.

Dumbledore nodded. "I must, yes."

He stood suddenly, a new purpose invigorating him. Merlin stood hastily too.

"I _have_ enjoyed our talk, however brief," he murmured, regretfully. "You must return again, soon."

Dumbledore shook his hand, eyes twinkling as he beamed. "I do thank you, Merlin, for taking the trouble to-"

"No trouble!" Merlin interrupted. "None at all. As I said, I rather enjoyed it. Few wizards provide such stimulating ideas for me to consider."

He turned suddenly and scribbled an address on a scrap of parchment.

"In fact, I wonder if you would take a message to one such man, for I am eager for you both to be acquainted."

He pressed the address into Dumbledore's right hand, before covering it with his own.

"I will see you soon."

Dumbledore nodded confirmation. "Certainly, Merlin, it would be my pleasure."

Merlin appeared distinctly mischievous, as though considering whether to share a personal joke. "No more formality, Albus. You must call me Merle when we meet again, I insist."

If this were a test, Dumbledore seemed to pass. He nodded, once more murmuring agreement, as he turned to leave. Merlin did not relinquish the grip on his hand. Dumbledore hesitated, unsure of what to make of such an obvious offer of the status of a peer.

"And Albus? You must really stop this nonsense of looking old."

Dumbledore met his amusement mildly. "I am quite aware one only appears as old as one feels," he murmured dryly. "I, however, found the experience of growing old quite enjoyable. I remain, in appearance, like this by choice, I assure you."

Dumbledore made his way out of Merlin's home, closing the front gate behind him. Merlin leant in the doorway, watching the retreating back of his guest, and wondered whether Albus had noticed the few traces of auburn hair that had appeared in his beard.

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**A/N****: I hope you all enjoyed this. It was particularly difficult to resist making Merlin and Dumbledore too similar, but I think I managed it! Thanks for reading. **


	11. Closure

**Disclaimer: ****Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

**Note****: I apologise for the wait: this was a long time in the making, and I needed the perfect song, just to pull it all together. The perfect one hit me this afternoon, and all this has flowed forth from that. I hope you enjoy it, and as always I'd love to hear your thoughts! **

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_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, _

_That saved a wretch like me_

_I once was lost, but now am found_

_Was blind, but now I see_

_- Amazing Grace_, John Newton (1772)

**Closure**   
_31st October 1999_

"How long has he been out here?" Lily murmured softly, eyes following the wispy figure pacing through the mist.

James stiffened in anger, his arms tightening around her, but Lily shrugged against his chest calmly. The question needed to be asked, and it seemed she was the one to ask it.

The official scratched his head, puzzled. "Well, you see, we don't actually know," he confessed apologetically. "Someone passed through his morning and told us he was out there, but he hasn't been able to get through."

"Good."

Sirius spoke with unusual conviction, his voice cold and distant. "So why are we here, then?"

The official shrugged. "He was speaking your names, you see. Wants to speak to you. _James and Lily and Sirius and Remus and Dumbledore and Snape_, he was chanting, like. That's you, isn't it?"

James gave a short nod. "That's all well and good, but _we_ have absolutely no wish to speak to _him_," he told the man, sympathetic but equally as cold as Sirius.

Remus cleared his throat awkwardly. "I know I have less say in this than you do, James, but – what's the harm in hearing him speak?"

"Harm?" Sirius repeated in disbelief. "The lying scum _killed_ them, Moony!"

Snape cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing at Lily's feet. "I – I'm afraid he wasn't the only one with a hand in their … er…"

Lily reached out to pat his arm comfortingly. "Nonsense, Sev, how could you have known…?"

"I don't get why you're here, anyway," Sirius muttered under his breath, crossing his arms.

Snape sneered. "He _asked_ for me too, Black," he replied shortly, before turning once again to observe the spectacle outside. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to go," he added, voice gentler as he met Lily's eyes sympathetically. "He's all… _translucent_, and something strange is going on. I don't see the harm in finding out."

Lily's lips twitched in a small smile of approval, and she gave him a slight nod, drawing out of her husband's hold.

"You're absolutely right, Sev. I agree." She glanced up at James questioningly and took his hand. "Come on, you big brave Auror, you. Let's go have a chat with our old friend _Wormy_."

- - -

Peter Pettigrew had never looked worse. He was short and pudgy, hair thinning, eyes as watery as ever, and to make matters worse, he appeared to be transparent. _Transparent!_ He supposed he had died, although he couldn't say how, or how he knew, and he was stuck in this strange misty place, pacing around and around the strange golden gate which seemed to exist without leading anywhere in particular. And for some reason, he was a strange, opaque kind of colour, as though he didn't really exist – ghost-like, and yet more solid than a ghost, more _definite_. So there he found himself, pacing in the increasingly thick gog, as he had been for what felt like weeks, maybe even months… and he couldn't get through that _damned_ golden gate.

The damned golden gate opened, and five figures emerged from nowhere, single file, before grouping together on the edge of the mist. And they were staring at _him_.

Peter stared back, and suddenly a shock ran through his body (if one could call it a body), and he recognised them.

They'd come, after all! Against all odds… His friends… his _old friends…_

Clasping his hands together anxiously, he hurried forward.

"James! Lily! Hello, Remus, Sirius. Snape."

If Snape had noticed he had received the coolest greeting, he gave nothing away. In fact, none of them did. They watched Peter hurry forth, faces impassive. All except for James, whose eyes were angry, mouth set into a thin line, free hand clenched.

If Peter didn't know better, he would have thought James wanted to punch him!

James did just that, body set and arm swinging; and without any time to step back or duck, Peter flinched, closing his eyes as he waited for impact.

It didn't come.

He opened his eyes, surprised, to find James stumble before him. The anger left his face, in a moment of confusion that quickly turned to revulsion, and then it clicked. James' hand – or rather, fist – had passed straight through him!

"What _are_ you?" James hissed in disbelief, his voice thick with disgust.

- - -

"Lying, murdering scum," Sirius drawled easily, breaking the stunned silence as Lily moved forward to examine James, although, of course, nothing was terribly the matter with him. "That's all he is, Prongs. Don't bother with the likes of him, he's not worth your _time_."

Peter blinked. "Now really, Sirius, that is a bit uncalled for."

Out of habit, he turned to appeal to Remus, reasonable Remus, who appraised him with his thoughtful eyes, frowning. "What are you doing here, Peter?"

"I would have thought that was quite simple," a voice interrupted from behind the party.

Everyone turned to stare - even Lily and James, who had been talking in quiet, urgent whispers – as Albus Dumbledore made his way out through the gates. "Sorry I'm late, Ariana was fussing."

Snape, who was the only one to react to Dumbledore's arrival with anything but relief, shrugged. "You're here now. It seems we have a situation."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed thoughtfully, approaching Peter, eyes hard.

Peter gave him a nod of respect. "Good to see you, Headmaster."

Dumbledore looked genuinely surprised. "Is it?"

"He can't remember," Lily interrupted, voice surprisingly steady.

Peter's eyes widened as he read the pity in her face. What was happening?

"You can't remember?" Dumbledore repeated thoughtfully, once again addressing Peter, who shrugged.

"_He can't remember?_" Sirius looked as though he was about to hyperventilate. "Merlin, that's rich!"

Peter clutched at his hands, feeling increasingly anxious. "What?" he asked, voice insistent. _"What_ can't I remember?"

He glanced amongst his friends, desperate for someone – _anyone_ – to meet his eyes. Even Dumbledore looked away, peering vaguely toward where Peter supposed was the sky; Snape glared straight through him – _why had he wanted _him_ there, anyway?_ He wondered. _He had seemed necessary at the time…_

Finally, desperately, Peter turned to James and Lily. James pointedly turned away, but Lily – _Lily_ met his eyes.

She frowned, obviously struggling to find the words, and then-

"You sold us to Voldemort," she told Peter quietly, her voice hauntingly gentle.

Peter choked. "Don't be ridiculous!" he protested weakly.

Remus sighed, folding his arms across his chest and looking defeated. "That's what I thought," he agreed sadly.

"And you _framed_ me," Sirius added, able to speak now the silence had been broken.

"You went into hiding," Dumbledore contributed absently. "As a _rat_, of all things, I do believe. Hmmm?"

"And you resurrected the Dark Lord," Snape added silkily, his voice dripping with loathing.

As one by one, their words sunk in, Peter clutched at his face, head shaking vehemently. Lies! It must all be lies!

Finally, James delivered the deathly blow.

"You betrayed us. Lily and I _died_, Sirius went to _Azkaban_, and Remus was _abandoned_. You betrayed us, Peter."

Something tugged at Peter's insides, wrenching them from him, and twisting, tearing away at him…

"Are… are – you can't be – are you _sure_? I – I mean – me! No, no, never…"

"You were weak," Snape interrupted coldly. "You were weak, and you're a traitor still, _Wormtail_. You don't belong here."

- - -

Dumbledore gazed calmly around the scene. Lily was crying now, trembling as silent tears coursed down her face. James held her, the arch of his body still rigid with fury, although Dumbledore was certain the words he murmured into his wife's ear were gentle. Sirius' fists were clenched, pure hatred etched across his handsome face; and Remus – Remus eyed Peter sadly, his disappointment, even after all this time, still fresh. Snape glared mercilessly at the quivering, transparent little man, swathed in fog.

Dumbledore eyed the fog thoughtfully. Perhaps -? But no, surely not?

Peter closed his eyes, clutching at his face as he moaned, _moaned_ in absolute despair and agony, and then–

Dumbledore blinked. James and Lily and Remus straightened; Sirius and Snape drew their wands.

But he was gone.

Peter had vanished, just like that, his transparent body dispersing into the mist, as though he had never been there in the first place.

- - -

James watched the fog, the horror of realisation slowly dawning on him.

_What had Dumbledore said about passing on? Only those of pure soul may pass through the golden gate… _

_And everyone else simply vanishes into the mist? Lily had asked._

James eyed the white clouds, now more sinister than peaceful. The mist wasn't mist at all! It was made of souls: the broken souls of those who couldn't pass through the golden gate. People didn't vanish _into_ the mist; they vanished _to_ mist!

James suppressed a shudder, drawing Lily closer, as though to protect her from the fog.

"Let's go," he murmured, fighting down his repulsion.

Lily read it in his eyes. She frowned, nodding, and took his hand once more, drawing him back inside.

James glanced back out into the mist for a final time, relieved to leave it behind him. He met Dumbledore's eyes: the old man nodded slightly before glancing away, face thoughtful. He held out his wrinkled old hand as though to run the thick fog through his fingers… And then, as though he thought better of it, he withdrew it again, and moved inside shaking his head sadly, the last of their group.

The golden gate clanged shut behind him.


	12. No Bravery

**Disclaimer****: Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

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_There are children standing here, arms outstretched into the sky,_

_Tears drying on their face: He has been here._

_Brothers lie in shallow graves, fathers lost without a trace._

_A nation blind to their disgrace, since he's been here._

_And I see no bravery, _

_No bravery in your eyes anymore._

_Only sadness._

_Houses burnt beyond repair; the smell of death is in the air._

_A woman weeping in despair says, He has been here._

_Tracer lighting up the sky: it's another family's‚ turn to die._

_A child afraid to even cry out says, He has been here._

_- No Bravery, _James Blunt

**No Bravery**

_2__nd__ June 1998_

It was dawn. The sky was streaked deep red with the blood of those who had fallen that night, and the air carried the damp, musty smell of despair up through the castle. Battle was done, and good had won, but it had been at a terrible cost, as war so often was. The walls were crumbling and there had been casualties, _so many casualties_, for a war that should never have been fought in the first place.

It was really quite remarkable, Ginny Weasley marveled, that one person - one human being, with hatred in his heart – could cause this great mess, was responsible for these awful consequences. When she thought about it, the voice of Tom Riddle still haunted her thoughts. He had been a child once, even as she had been: but he had been alone and vulnerable, and had never learnt the ways of the heart. Ginny, comparatively, had been so thoroughly smothered with love to a point where she too was often rendered emotionless. Emotions were bad – they drove greed and a hunger for power that grew and grew until it became insatiable…

Now was the first time Ginny had ever been grateful for that one small mercy. To lack emotion was to suppress pain, and it allowed that irrational part of her to hold onto the belief that Fred was merely sleeping, and would awake at any moment.

And Fred was not the only casualty. Lupin and Tonks had been found scarce yards from each other. Ginny had watched as they were carried up to the hall and placed side by side, so peaceful they might have been sleeping, and yet… Ginny wondered whether Tonks had reached him in time to say goodbye.

And Colin, little Colin, limp as his photographs, lay in the antechamber now reserved for the dead, too.

Her family had fought, tonight. Her family, which extended beyond those of red-hair to Hermione, and Remus, and Tonks, and Hagrid… Her family had fought tonight, and they had died tonight.

Her family had killed, tonight.

Even her mother – warm, kind, Molly; her mother had killed, this night, to protect her. The blood on her mother's hands coursed through Ginny's fingers, also.

There was blood on Ginny's hands.

She shuddered as she thought of Harry; his body limp in Hagrid's arms, blood trickling across his face from a gash in his hair, when they had thought he was lost. She remembered her insides screaming, voice caught in her throat, and how she had not been able to breathe at all.

She had known, then, what pain was. Her insides had twisted at the thought of her brother and the boy she loved, lost to a place, beyond her reach… She had lost her brother's laughter and mischief, and she could not bear to lose Harry as well as Fred; for it would have been not only a loss of Harry, but also of the future she dreamed they might one day share together. But Harry, somehow, had a penchant for performing miracles, and she remembered that moment in the Great Hall, still breathless from her unchained fury at Bellatrix, huddled with Hermione and Luna on the floor, sobbing and scared and dirty and bleeding and _raw…_ when he had returned. He was a miracle. _Her_ miracle.

And even still, there was blood on her hands.

The boy she loved, her brothers, her mother, her father… her family had killed today, to keep her safe.

And the world was a little darker for it; and yet, a little lighter too.

There was no bravery in killing. The only bravery in death was reserved for the dead.

**- - -**

There was no room for bravery, anymore. All that was left was loss. But they would survive, and they would heal. She would heal and she would live, and she knew this with conviction.

"Ginny."

Harry's voice caressed her name from the doorway of the Astronomy Tower, where she had escaped to. If only it were so simple – if only the sound of her name on his lips could erase every terrible thing she had seen, the nightmare she had lived.

She didn't turn; couldn't acknowledge him. Rather, Ginny Weasley gave a great, heaving sob, finally able to cry.

Relief seemed to pour from her very soul in torrents as she crouched on the cold, stone floor and sobbed, not caring whether her knees became grazed by the stone, not caring that there was blood - or were they tears? - trickling down her neck.

She could cry, now that she knew everything would be all right.

Harry covered the ground between them in long, easy strides, gathering her up. "It's all right, Gin. We're all right. _It's all right_…"

**- - -**

The clean-up had begun at dawn, the first early rays of light beaming through the gaps in the mountains. Sun scattered across the rolling hills, deathly silent, as witches and wizards poured out of the castle to reinforce the damaged walls, and to claim their dead. Harry and Ginny watched silently from the Tower as together, Neville and Charlie removed Nagini from her resting place beyond the front steps.

"I was so scared."

For a moment, startled, Ginny had to glance around the tower before concluding that she herself had broken the silence.

"Me too," Harry's voice was quiet, swelling with emotion. "I couldn't bear to lose you."

"I thought I _had_ lost you," Ginny told him brokenly, her mind returning, unbidden, to the trembling wreck she had become seeing Harry in Hagrid's arms.

Harry's arms tightened around her, and he kissed her hair.

"I know. I'm so sorry, Gin. I did what I had to do. I did it for you, you know. For you, and for Ron and Hermione, and for your brothers, and parents… and-" his voice faltered "- for _my_ parents, and Remus and Sirius, and Tonks… and Teddy… and _everyone_."

"I know," Ginny told him, nestling into his chest. "I know you did. I didn't doubt you for a second, Harry."

In support of her words, she lifted her face and kissed him, then. She savoured the simple comfort, one that she had thought not to taste ever again.

Harry drew away, surprised and uncertain. "Are you sure?"

Ginny smiled at him. It was a sad little smile, and it couldn't hide the pain in her eyes… and yet, nevertheless, it was a smile, and all for him. Harry watched her, full of awe and wonder, safe with the knowledge that she was easily the strongest person he had ever met.

"Of course I'm sure. Are _you_ sure?"

The question was ludicrous. Harry kissed her again.

"Of course I am. I love you," he murmured, voice thick as he brushed the hair from her eyes with gentle, blackened fingers. "All of this-" he gestured to the grounds, the castle, the cleanup. "I did all this because I_ had_ to. But now, that's done with…" He paused, eyeing her uncertainly, unable to stop a sheepish grin spreading across his face as she nodded her encouragement. "And now that's all done, you're all I want, and need, and know. Because I love you."

Ginny stared up at him in awe: he was the last person she had ever expected to hear speak those words, and yet there he was giving them, and himself, to her, all the same.

And, even if there was no bravery left in the world, its absence seemed justified, now. For love, it all seemed worth it, Ginny thought as she gave away her heart, for good.

She rested her forehead against his chest and stroked his cheek, forgetting for a moment the blood on her hands.

_They would heal, now that everything would be all right. _

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**Author's Note****: Before you ask: yes, I am still on hiatus. I was overcome with the compulsion to post these last four chapters, as they already existed in little bits and pieces and in a flurry of wild study-procrastination, I finished them all. There will be fifteen chapters, and then I am putting Memento Mori to rest (how ironic). **

**I hope you all enjoyed this – I really tried to capture the tumult of exhaustion and wild emotion that Ginny would be experiencing. Concrit is appreciated, as I haven't had a lot of experience with writing Ginny! Thank you all for reading…. Depending on a diverse range of variables (ie. whether or not I can a) be bothered to and b) suppress the urge to make you all wait) the other three chapters may be posted tonight, or in a few days… or… well, you get my drift. **

**Thanks for your patience!**


	13. Home Is Where The Heart Lies

**Disclaimer****: Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

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_Oh, and time moves like a train,_

_It disappears into the night sky._

_Yeah, I still get that sad feeling inside,_

_To see the red tail lights wave goodbye._

_Let's grow old together, we'll grow old together_

_And this love will never, __this old love will never die_

-_This Old Love_, Lior.

** Home is Where the Heart Lies**

_1__st__ August 1998_

"I wonder what he's doing, right now?" Tonks murmured softly as her husband set the photograph on their mantelpiece and stepped back to join her.

Their son, all soft, new skin and tuft of blue hair, gurgled and waved at them, as though he recognised them. And, of course, he _had,_ when the photo had been taken. The photograph was a small mercy, Remus knew. A small mercy, that he had had it on him when Dolohov had dealt that final, unforgiving blow.

"Probably sleeping," Remus replied quietly, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Here you are," Lily announced, bustling into the lounge room with two steaming mugs.

She caught sight of the frame and paused, a slow smile curving across her face. "Oh, that's lovely," she murmured, drinking in the sight of their child hungrily. "I wish I'd thought of it."

Remus accepted his tea with an apologetic smile. "If times were different, I'm sure I'd have a photo of them _both_ to show you."

"If time were different, _you_ wouldn't be here," James interrupted cheerfully as he and Sirius joined them.

"Besides," he added, grinning. "_Ours_ looks just like _me_. What more do you need?" he asked cheerfully, planting a kiss on Lily's cheek.

Remus rather thought James was missing the point, although knowing his old friend - who very rarely _truly_ missed the point - it was probably intentional. Sirius gazed around the lounge room, face unreadable. It was empty; just a room. They had, after all, only just moved in. Tonks had thrown the windows wide open, and a breeze filtered through, airing the musty air.

The cottage, so far as Lily and James knew, had not been occupied for some time.

Remus cast his gaze around the blank white walls, the plain wooden floor, and simple stone mantle. It was empty, now – too empty – but the one, lone photograph of their son made this house their home.

The group regarded the photograph thoughtfully when a noise from the hall signaled Regulus' return. Sirius' brother carried the box into the lounge and set it down, eyeing them all curiously.

"What are you all looking at?"

Sirius gestured absently toward the photograph. "Just admiring Moony's spawn," he replied carelessly. "Are those it, then?"

Tonks leant forward to eye the box of rocks dubiously. "Rocks?" she asked her cousins.

Regulus simply shrugged.

"Just you wait," Remus breathed into her ear, a smile adorning his face. "Just you wait and see, no one was ever as good at transfiguration as James and Sirius."

As the boys gathered around the crate, Lily stepped back and made her way toward Tonks, smiling kindly. "Relax. James did our entire home himself, and it turned out just fine, didn't it? Now what colour would you like these walls?"

Tonks raised her eyebrow. "I thought James painted your door blue?" she asked.

Lily grinned. "He did. I didn't tell him about _this_ spell 'til afterwards."

"Oh," Tonks replied, as though that explained everything. She could only imagine his chagrin. "I think white's quite pleasant, actually. Although I rather fancy a yellow hallway."

Lily nodded, beaming, and set off, drawing her wand out of her pocket as she disappeared through the doorway.

- - -

Tonks sat in the middle of the lounge room, watching her home materialize, as it were, around her. James was still fiddling with what had become a lounge, claiming it was still a little too hard, but Sirius, Remus and the box of rocks had long since disappeared. Regulus was busy making a fence around the front yard, and Lily hadn't been seen for hours.

"There. How do you like it?" James asked, sinking into what appeared to be cushioned red leather with satisfaction.

Tonks stood and joined him, bewildered. It was strange. She had only known this charming young man and Lily, wonderful Lily, for barely a month, and yet she felt as though it had been forever: as if she'd known them in life – and actually, she _had_ attended their wedding, although she barely remembered it.

Time was a funny thing. Time created memories, and yet it also bore witness as they slipped away, one by one. On the mantelpiece, Teddy grinned and waved his chubby fist at her. Tonks suppressed the urge to wave back. James too, was watching the photo.

"I don't what's worse," he confessed ruefully. "You're lucky, that you have the picture… And yet…"

Tonks met his eyes, nodding. "I know," she replied quietly. "Sometimes I wonder if he was just a dream."

James ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. "I know I'm a father," he admitted, smiling. "I remember what it feels like, and all that… but-" he shook his head hopelessly. "I wouldn't know the first thing about Harry as a teenager. I'm barely older than that, myself!"

Tonks shrugged. "I'm sure you'd do a fine job. Harry's a good kid: one of the best."

Even as she spoke, she saw the truth in his words. It seemed very difficult, somehow, to reconcile James, scarcely twenty and still very much a boy at heart, as the father of the great Harry Potter. Undoubtedly, had he and Lily lived, James would have made a smashing father (just as Remus would have) but the James she knew now, stalled in time, did not seem capable of the great responsibilities fatherhood imposed. Although, had things been different and James and Lily had lived, Harry wouldn't have been able to destroy Voldemort, and perhaps if that was taken into account, their sacrifice had been worth it in the long run.

James smiled, pleased at the compliment to his son. "I ran into one of his old friends the other day. A Diggory. Seemed convinced I was Harry, poor chap. He was awfully upset."

"I imagine that was Cedric," Tonks mused thoughtfully. "Understandable, I suppose. You _did_ tell him who you were, didn't you?"

James stared at his hands sheepishly. "I probably could have handled it better – I mean honestly, _look, no scar!_ But er… he seemed convinced in the end. A little relieved, and I think embarrassed. He swears we must be identical. I'm not too sure that's good, though. Much rather him be like Lily," he added thoughtfully. "It's strange, not knowing him. I think that's what I miss the most, sometimes…"

Tonks grinned. "Well, if there's one thing to know about Harry, it's that he's a bit stubborn sometimes, but he's got a wonderful heart."

James smiled absently, his eyes twinkling. "Just like his mother, then! That's what Snape said too. I suppose that's a good thing, though. I'm too much of a scoundrel for Harry to take after me," he joked.

"Scoundrel, eh?" Lily murmured from the doorway, amused. "I beg to differ – I find you rather endearing, really…"

Tonks bit back a laugh at the wide, mischievous smile bewitching Lily's lips. Lily turned to Tonks, her smile softening kindly as she beckoned. "Come on, then, come see what we've done."

"Do I have to cover my eyes?" Tonks asked, suddenly apprehensive, as she stood.

A chuckle sounded from behind Lily, and Remus' voice carried through the hall. "I don't think that's the best of ideas," he teased mildly. "Wouldn't want you falling, now, would we, my dear?"

Blushing, Tonks followed Lily out of the lounge, aiming a kick at Remus as she went. Sometimes, she suspected she was clumsy out of habit, not predisposition, and almost every time she had attempted and nearly succeeded to break said habit, Remus would bring it up again. He really was a-

Tonks blinked, suddenly surrounded by a bright, sunny yellow

The cheerfully coloured hallway, as requested, emphasized the timber stairs quite charmingly. At it's very end, the hallway ran into the kitchen, and that was where Lily led her now, stepping back once more to allow her to marvel at their handiwork. The kitchen was very Remus: calm, dignified colours and sensible wooden benches. Tonks ran her hand along it lovingly.

It wasn't that she was bad at magic – not at all, she was a top Auror after all! – but once again, her propensity to be clumsy shone through when Tonks was at her most relaxed, and without any pressure, she didn't trust herself in her inexperience.

"This is magnificent," she murmured appreciatively. "Give me some dark wizards to transfigure and I can do it in a second – but _this_, this is art."

Lily took her arm enthusiastically. "Just wait until you see upstairs!"

The young women climbed the stairs together, Tonks proudly noting she hadn't tripped.

Sirius was still adding the finishing touches to the bedroom when they entered. Tonks gasped appreciatively. Each wall was a different colour; the bed was simple and yet inviting, and the whole effect was, well… entrancing.

Tonks gazed around the walls, the rug and the bedspread happily.

"Oh this is just_ fantastic!_" she enthused. "Thank you so much!"

Lily beamed. "We thought it was very you," she told her cheerfully. Sirius gave one more flourish, and red fabric streamed from the end of his wand, flying up to fix themselves as curtains.

"Perfect," he grinned. "How do you like it, little cousin?"

"It's fantastic," she told him honestly as they made their way back down the stairs. "Look, I didn't even trip! This cottage was meant to be."

Sirius laughed handsomely, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "Actually, that delightful husband of yours put an anti-trip charm on the stairs, but don't tell him I told you."

Tonks shook her head in amazement, flattered by his thoughtfulness.

Remus stood in the middle of the lounge room, watching the photograph of Teddy thoughtfully. "How do you like it?" he asked quietly, drawing her to him.

Tonks nodded, satisfied. "It's perfect, really _us_. I think we'll be happy here."

Remus kissed her forehead, smiling. "Good. Old friends, new home, and we saved the world. What more could we want?"

Tonks frowned thoughtfully. Teddy blew a raspberry. His parents exchanged fond smiles, an unspoken longing passing between them with a quiet understanding. Their son would grow old, and be happy: they had made sure of that. And they would be together too, for always, now.

"Nothing," she murmured quietly. "Everything's as it should be."

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**Author's Note:**** I've had this chapter almost ready for ages, and I hope you like it. I'd love to hear your thoughts!**

**And thank you for your reviews for last chapter. In retrospect I'm not entirely confident with that piece and any concrit that anyone is able to offer on No Bravery would be entirely welcome (sorry to ask!)**

** Thanks for reading )  
**


	14. Small Mercies

**Disclaimer****: Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

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_Where are you and I'm so sorry_

_I cannot sleep I cannot dream tonight_

_I need somebody and always_

_This sick strange darkness comes creeping on so haunting every time_

_And as I stared I counted the webs from all the spiders_

_Catching things and eating their insides_

_Like indecision to call you_

_And hear your voice of treason_

_Will you come home and stop this pain tonight_

_- I Miss You, _Blink 182

**Small Mercies**

_11__th__ December 2001_

_What right do you have to be here? How dare you? How did you? What do you want from me, from this place?_  
The questions tumbled around Dumbledore's mind and he brushed them aside patiently, because there would be time, infinite time, for these questions later, and right now, the most important one that he could think to ask was:

"Why?"

Grindelwald shrugged, moving about his kitchen to fix them drinks and something small to eat, as though the question referred to his choice of clothing, rather than his choices in life.

"Because I could, Albus. Why did we ever do anything? Because we could, and because in all our cleverness we forgot that consequences exist."

Snape leant against the counter, watching the two men evenly. It was interesting, he found, that Dumbledore was not alone in his choice to remain old. He had not known, even as Dumbledore himself had not known, who lay beyond the mysterious doorway that Merlin had led them, or rather Dumbledore alone, to. He was just there as moral support, really - to aid his friend's strength and to carry with him confidence.

Which, when it all came down to it, meant that Snape had nothing better to do with himself. He had chosen this over an afternoon with Lily and James and their friends – people that Snape was still finding it difficult to recognise as _his_ friends – out of pure curiousity. There was time, infinite time, to wile away with Lily and James and their friends in the Potters' cozy kitchen, and how many opportunities did one get to meet the second most infamous wizard of the twentieth century?

"I make no apologies, Albus," Grindelwald was saying as he carried a quaint little tray into his comfortable sitting room. "The time is long past for excuses and apologies, and even for forgiveness. That is done with, now, and I am done with it."

"Is it ever too late for forgiveness?" Snape wondered out loud, accidentally.

Grindelwald turned to regard him for the first time, measuring him with steady, black eyes, his expression strangely delighted.

"And so this is the man who killed you, Albus?"

Snape frowned in an attempt to hide the fact that this strange old man startled him. He glanced uncertainly toward Dumbledore, who nodded encouragingly.

Snape met Grindelwald's eyes once more, proudly. "I did nothing more and nothing less than what was requested of me."

Grindelwald's delight seemed to expand. "Another who offers no apologies, then. I wonder how you come to appreciate forgiveness, then."

"Severus has had much to apologise for, Gellert. My death is not one of those things," Dumbledore interrupted now, rather severely in Snape's opinion.

Grindelwald shrugged. "Shortbread? I made it myself. In my case, forgiveness is too much to ask, for most people, Albus. I will apologise to your friend, for that is convention, though I expect nothing from it. I have no time to wait for forgiveness from those unwilling to grant it to me."

"I am not unwilling."

Dumbledore reached out and selected a biscuit from Gellert's tray, tasting it thoughtfully.

It seemed to Snape that Grindelwald was rarely surprised. This, however, appeared to do it. Grindelwald fixed Dumbledore, now, with his measuring gaze, though there was no laughter behind his eyes this time. Suddenly, he broke away, his surprisingly curly hair bobbing as his gaze fixed on the distant hills, visible through his windows.

"I have waited in darkness, trapped in my own thoughts and with my own deeds, for so long," he murmured, and Snape suspected from the distant tone of his voice that he had in fact returned to the very place he spoke of.

"You don't have to wait any longer, old friend," Dumbledore responded, moving forward to touch Grindelwald's thin arm, wrinkled with age and neglect. "I'm here, now."

It seemed to Snape a poignant time to leave. He stood swiftly, and for a second Dumbledore met his eyes, nodding his thanks, before returning his attention to his old, almost ancient, friend. Snape left, letting himself out softly through the knarled front door and moving quietly down the path without a glance back toward those large, empty windows.

- - -

"Sev!" Lily opened the door, delight in her eyes as she recognised her guest. "I thought you were busy?"

She stood back to let him in eagerly. The sounds of laughter embraced him as he crossed the threshold into Merrily Cottage, and he offered a smile as Lily took his cloak.

"Busy? No. What better do I have to do than pass my time with friends?"

James' messy head appeared from the lounge, curious as to who was keeping his wife so long.

"Severus!" he grinned, moving forward to shake his hand. "Great to see you – would you like a drink? I was just getting Paddy and Reg another Butterbeer."

Snape smiled, his thin lips relaxed. "Yes, thank you."

James nodded, disappearing into the kitchen as Lily gestured toward the lounge room doorway.

"Shall we?" she asked, smiling, as she offered her arm in jest.

Snape could not recall the last time he had genuinely laughed. Without needing to say more, he accepted Lily's arm and they entered the room together. James was right behind them, placing a kiss on Lily's cheek as he laughed too, and Snape watched, eternally surprised, to see Sirius, Regulus and Remus rise to grip his hand in greeting, and Nymphadora's cheery wave. These people, with their casual offers of friendship, would never understand the importance of their small mercies.

Perhaps Dumbledore had been wrong, and the question should not have been 'Why?'

Perhaps, it should have been, 'How?'

How did this happen?

_Merlin only knew,_ Snape thought reverently as he took a seat beside Regulus, accepting a bottle from James. _And next time he saw him, he made a mental note to ask._

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**Note: So this is the second last chapter - a very emotional time, as you can probably appreciate. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read over the last few chapters: my inbox has absolutely exploded with your reviews! It's one of the nicest things in the world to know people are getting enjoyment from your work **

**And since someone pointed it out to me, I shall pass this on: guys, sometimes there will be "typos" in my stories. They're not typos, just a disparity between the British/Australian and American ways of spelling things. Just figured I might add that one on... **

**The Final Chapter will be posted most probably sometime tomorrow, in case anyone is wondering! Thank you, as always, for reading**


	15. Let This Go On Forever

**Disclaimer****: Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.**

**Note: I dedicate this to all the wonderful people who have followed this story from its very beginnings. There are too many of you to name, and if I attempt it I know I shall miss someone out - but you know who you are. Thank you so very much, you're absolutely incredible, and you make writing all the more worthwhile.  
**

**Once you've read this, I'm curious to hear: which were your favourite chapters? Did you have any favourites? But that can wait. For now, read on, and enjoy! ****  
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_We should go to sleep now,_

_You should stay the night._

_I'll be up to watch the world around us live and die._

_Lying on the grass now,_

_Dancing for the stars._

_Maybe one will look on down and tell us who we are._

_We might fall_

_We might fall_

_We might fall_

_Oh we might fall_

_- We Might Fall_, Ryan Starr

**Let This Go On Forever**

**_ James _ **

Some mornings, I look at myself and think, I don't even know my own son. I know who he is, and what he looks like (me) to a certain extent, but all this knowledge is theoretical. I don't know my son: how he thinks, his mannerisms, his friends, how he feels about the world.

How he feels about Lily, and how he feels about me.

I don't know the little things; his expression when he's puzzled, or the sound of his laughter. All I remember is my – our – tiny, beautiful baby boy with the punk of black hair he inherited from me, and Lily's eyes; not the man my boy has become, our brave young man who has now lived on the earth longer than I have, now. In my mind, I find it impossible to reconcile the two as the same.

He is a piece of me, and I hope I'm a piece of him – but for me, he's something I can never access, this intangible memory. One day, he will die, I know, and then I will meet him. I look forward to it with a hunger I can't reasonably justify, this greed for his death (for our reunion), to have back what I have no right to ask for, anymore. And I wonder, how did I become this bitter person?

Then, I will catch sight of Lily – she'll be smiling at me, her eyes meeting mine with this inexplicable understanding that amongst other things we both share – and I think, I love this woman. I know that no matter the fact that we will never share our terrible yearning out loud, it_ is_ something that we share, our terrible little secret, and the fact that we share it means I feel a little more human about it all.

And then, all I can think is that I am an incredibly lucky bugger, as Sirius always said, to have and to love Lily, and to be able to share this with her. We've always been falling, Lily and I; falling out, falling in love, falling pregnant (all right, only on one occasion), falling into this existence that isn't life, just… falling, but wherever we've fallen, we've done it together, always together.

And to be able to exist and to wait for Harry, and to be content to continue falling with his mother, with my Lily, and to laugh as we hit the ground together and land on our feet, as always…

Some mornings, I look at myself and think; I can't believe my luck.

- - -

_**Lily **_

Sometimes, I'm grateful that we died. We died so he could live, and his one small life has made all the difference. I'm grateful that I have James, as I would be lost without him (that goes without saying). I'm grateful that somehow, against all odds, we've fallen on our feet in this place where we exist, and that this place is full of our friends and family, and that we can taste happiness again.

Death is a difficult concept to reconcile oneself with; how is it that we die, and then get to keep on like this? When I think about that, I always think about Peter, and I wonder if he's still out there, aware, or if he has simply faded into the mist to the extent that he is no longer anything else, anymore. I wonder, I will always wonder, what happened to our beautiful friend…

I am grateful that somehow, James and I could pass through the mist unscathed. That we have each other, and that together, we can laugh and cry and share our lives still. That whenever I think of my son – our son – I can look at James, and read the look in his eyes that tells me he is thinking of Harry too.

I am grateful for the snippets of news we hear whenever someone passes over to us. It meant everything for Sirius to tell us that Harry is just like James; for Remus to reassure us that he has a good head on his shoulders; for Sev to say that Harry is a good man; for Dumbledore to inform us, grave as always, that we have so much to be proud of him for. It was a small miracle to hear from Fred Weasley's aunt that Harry had married Fred's sister, and to be able to share in their happiness and to love this young woman our son has chosen for his own, even though we have never met her. For Aberforth, when he passed on, to arrive at our doorstep himself to tell us Harry had a son, and that he had named his son James, for my James…

It is the little pieces of his happiness that fall into our own lives that I am grateful for, to collect and to share, and to add to our own happiness. For as long as we both shall exist, until it is time for him to meet us in death, we will carry his memory with us, and he will be here.

- - -

_**James**_

One afternoon, it rains. I watch with a smile as Lily's face lights up, laughing as she hurried out of the house and onto the back lawn. Arms raised and face upturned, she spins beneath the endless grey clouds as little droplets hit her face and run down her cheeks, tears of happiness.

And, because she knows I am watching and laughing with her, she stops and calls to me, and I step out into the rain. By the time I reach her, my clothes are soaked through, and my hair is plastered to my head. I can feel a trickle running down my nose as I gather her up in my arms.

The feeling that passes between us, skin to skin, is magic – the gentle heat, her steady pulse, the ringing laughter in my ears as I pull her to me and we dance beneath open skies. And together we move, at one with each other and this place, and we watch the rain fall all around us … and I wonder, and she wonders, and together we wonder, if our son dances in the rain like we do, and whether, just perhaps, this rain from the sky, these droplets on our cheeks, the water on our skin... whether this rain has touched our son, too.

I kiss her in the rain, revel in the warmth of her breath and the softness of her lips and the taste of our love, and lose myself to her again, falling, every time, always.

He is with us.

And I can't help but wish: _let this go on forever._

_**The end**_

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**Note****: You may notice I didn't date this last piece: place it within the story where you will. **

**I hope I've opened you all to a different interpretation of death, as such, and to the wider world of imagination. The Harry Potter series has finished, but just as these characters live beyond death, they will endure in our minds, our imaginations and (most importantly) our stories, for many, many years to come.**

**I hope, too, that you've all enjoyed this chapter and the story as a whole. Once again - which were your favourite chapters, if any? I'm very curious to hear, and feedback is eternally appreciated!**

**Thank you for reading. **

**Peace, Lexie**


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